


Spark of a Decepticon

by Sincorah



Series: Spark of a Decepticon [1]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/M, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Redemption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2018-10-24 07:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 69,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10737345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincorah/pseuds/Sincorah
Summary: Soundwave's Lieutenant, an often-overlooked mech (Designation: Switchshade) has always had a weak spark. Killing the helpless, those who can't fight back, is abhorrent to him, even when it is on his lord's orders. When he sees Commander Starscream preparing to slay a red Autobot held helpless before him, Switchshade is moved to intercede. His functioning will never be the same.





	1. Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so both the title and the summary are absolutely terrible. If anyone has any better ideas, please let me know and I’ll be glad to take them into consideration. In my defense, I haven’t slept much in the last four years or so, so take what you can get. This is a TFP story that centers around an OC, so if that’s not what you’re looking for, feel free to leave now. You have been warned.

How long had it been? Vorns, certainly. Longer, even. Since nearly the start of the Great War itself, Switchshade had been a Decepticon; nothing more, nothing less. Loyal, quiet, unobtrusive. Unimportant, in the long run, but _there_ nonetheless. He’d had his rank, a lowly lieutenant, perhaps, but an officer nonetheless. He’d had Soundwave, and Laserbeak, and even Starscream, in his own way, after that day so long ago when he’d first intervened with Megatron on the seeker’s behalf. And now, now? What did he have now? A death sentence upon his helm from those he had served under and fought with and bled energon for. _Nothing_. Why? Why could he never successfully shunt aside his pitiful and hated emotions? His weak spark that would not let him sit idly by and do nothing when an innocent or the helpless were being harmed, why did it still bother to pump energon through his useless lines? Some Decepticon he made. How had it all come to this?

It had been a peaceful and much welcome break to nearly all of the Decepticon army when Megatron had left on his mysterious quest. Earth was a tiny little planet tucked away in the aft-end of nowhere, but at least it was quiet. Peaceful, even, since the warlord’s departure. Dark red optics blinked almost lazily as the mech who possessed them tried to quickly finish his crew reports for the cycle. Soundwave expected them to be completed and submitted to the proper files by the end of earth’s solar cycle, and it was one of Switchshade’s duties to ensure that such work was done properly. The mech’s free servo clicked as he absentmindedly tapped his black claws to an unfamiliar rhythm on the side of the control panel as he worked. Laserbeak flew into the communications deck, returning from another reconnaissance mission, and the ‘drone’ circled Switchshade once, beeping a greeting, before hurrying to her master and quickly alerting him to Starscream’s latest scheme.

Switchshade waved at the casseticon lazily, submitting his final file for the day before moving to silently leave the bridge, inclining his head in a respectful bow to the TIC as he departed. The dark mech suppressed a yawn, more than ready to seek his tiny quarters and moderately comfortable berth, but the sounds of a mech moaning involuntarily in pain and the striking of servos against a frame were enough to send the mech into high alert instantly. He sprinted onto the adjacent command deck, expecting to see Starscream on the floor with a newly-returned Megatron standing over him. Switchshade could hardly be blamed for his instinctive response, for such an occurrence was far from rare aboard the Nemesis, and it would hardly be the first time the communications officer had seen the agony of the Decepticon SIC from their lord’s capricious temper.

 This time, however, Megatron was nowhere to be seen as Switchshade skidded into the command deck at top speed, only barely managing to come to a stop, as the sight of an _Autobot_ prisoner froze him in his tracks. The red Autobot was already in an absolutely deplorable state, his armor dented and scratched, with rivulets of bright blue energon dripping from his frame. As Switchshade entered, the ‘bot was dragged up onto his knees, and then held in place before the acting leader of the Decepticons. Starscream appeared positively gleeful, the seeker’s wings perked high and fluttering lightly in delight as he circled his prey, but Switchshade had optics only for the telltale exhaustion in the prisoner’s frame, the scuffs and  marks so similar to what the SIC himself had so often received from his lord’s servos, and Soundwave’s apprentice lost his processor for a moment.

Old habits kicked in, protective instincts that had caused the mech to take more than one beating from Megatron’s servos to shield Starscream from further abuse, and the Decepticon mech acted without thought. One instant, Starscream was looming over the red Autobot, his right servo cocked back and ready to strike a killing blow to the Autobot’s spark, and the next, he was flying through the air to collide with the monitors on the far wall, the drones who had been holding Cliffjumper knocked aside as well. Switchshade hoisted the badly wounded Autobot up by dragging his arm across his shoulder plates, and then he promptly raised his free blaster, firing a hole directly into the floor of the Nemesis, allowing him and his captive to drop a level, and he began sprinting towards the nearest hangar bay.

Switchshade shuddered as he could practically _feel_ Soundwave beginning to counter, putting measures into place to ensure they would never get off the ship, and the mech desperately transformed into his alt-mode, a simple black earth car he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, shoving his way under the Autobot before peeling off as if the Unmaker himself was on his heels. He forced his processor to shut down all but necessary functions, refusing to think about his actions, knowing that if it was far too late to go back now, and if he hesitated, he’d be dead.

He somehow managed to make it to the hangar, but all the shuttles had been locked down already, courtesy of his former commanding officer, and Switchshade pushed down a rising wave of panic. Instantly, he transformed back into his root mode, overriding the door commands, and then, still supporting most of the Autobot’s weight, leapt out the open hatch.

The fall felt as if it would take forever, and the rocky terrain below left little doubt in the Decepticon’s mind that this would be how he died. How very pathetic. Smashed to pieces on the rocky Terran terrain, and beside an Autobot no less.

 Primus, it seemed, had other ideas, and somehow, someway, Switchshade and the red Autobot collided with the mountainous ground at an angle, rolling for some time before coming to a shaky stop, and miraculously remaining more or less in one piece. The former Decepticon quickly switched off the blazing warnings on his HUD regarding his new wounds from the fall, and dizzily forced himself to rise to his pedes instead. He quickly transformed into his altmode again, while carefully ensuring that the Autobot was secured across his hood and roof before beginning to drive. There was no thought in his processor except to get as far and as fast away from the Nemesis as he could.

***

Several breems later, the mech had found one of the larger mines that the drones had been harvesting energon from, and transformed back into his root mode once again, this time lifting the now-insensate Autobot carefully over his shoulders so as to carry him. The Autobot had awoken once, groaning in pain, but he had quickly passed back into unconsciousness, entirely unaware of his surroundings. Switchshade moved on silent pedes to sneak into the mine, disguising his energy signature and extending his field to hide the Autobot’s as well, as he quickly moved passed the oblivious drones and down deeper into the earth. Switchshade found a cave large enough to suit his purposes, and far enough out of the way of the main energon deposits so as to go unnoticed by the drones, and there he carefully eased the badly wounded Autobot down. He had already been weakened by Starscream’s ministrations, and the fall from the Nemesis hadn’t done him any favors, causing further damage on impact.

Still functioning mostly on autopilot, the former Decepticon patched up all of the major surface wounds he could find on the mech, stemming the flow of energon from a couple of areas that could become fatal if left untreated. He flared his plating as he worked, allowing his biolights to show more clearly, giving off just enough light to see by. Switchshade would be the first to admit that he was no medic, but questionable field patches were better than nothing.

Once he was certain that the Autobot was not in immediate danger of deactivation, his thoughts and memories caught up to him, and the mech collapsed onto the ground beside the Autobot, hiding his faceplates in shaking servos. _What have I done?_

 


	2. What Have I Done?

Switchshade had known since he had been only a sparkling that those who could not fight and had no protectors died. It was the natural way of things. His sire had died before he was even fully formed, and his carrier had passed not long after his birth. Surprisingly, it had been Soundwave, of all mechs, who had taken in the quiet little grounder, when Ravage brought the tiny sparkling home from off the streets as if he were a trophy. The ex-gladiator had for reasons unknown refused to turn the tiny sparkling away, and it was not for many vorns that the mech realized how truly remarkable it was that Soundwave had chosen to take him in. In recent vorns, Switchshade recognized that, as a carrier to a host of cassettes, Soundwave would have had great difficulty in denying his caretaking programming when faced with a helpless sparkling. Truly, only in the hands of a seeker would he have been safer.

            He grew, and learned, and adopted many mannerisms of his guardian and his clade, including the tendency to be silent whenever possible, although the mech had never sworn a vow of silence as Soundwave did early on. It was really only a survival mechanism as of late, as angering Megatron was unwise in the extreme, and often all it took to avoid his ire was to complete one’s work and to keep one’s mouth shut.

Stellar cycles passed, and as one by one, the cassettes fell to the war, Switchshade mourned in his own way, never making a move to try to share grief with Soundwave, knowing his pain was far greater at the losses than Switchshade’s could ever be. The slender mech had never been anything but fair and gentle with him, but the spymaster wasn’t the most affectionate of mechs at the best of times, and so Switchshade had withdrawn to grieve privately at each loss of mechs that he would have considered almost siblings. The dual loss of Rumble and Frenzy, especially, had taken its toll. Now, Switchshade worked closely with Laserbeak frequently on reconnaissance, and though it was rather unnecessary most of the time, he handled communications amongst the drones and the lowest of the decepticon army. Whenever he had a mission with Laserbeak, however, he found he had become almost ridiculously overprotective of the casseticon, which she let him know her displeasure of in no uncertain terms.

Although Switchshade had been an officer from fairly early on, he had always managed to fly fairly low on the radar, and for the first majority of the war, he drew very little attention to himself. Megatron himself took no notice of him whatsoever beyond that he was one of his troops, and that his unshakeable loyalty to Soundwave meant that his loyalty to _him_ was secure. However, after Cybertron fell, and Starscream began to be beaten by Megatron for his failings, (and sometimes for failings not his own), Switchshade noticed, and his _weak_ spark would not allow him to stand idly by and do nothing. The rage and hatred in Megatron’s spark began to poison the once clever and passionate if ruthless mech, and warped and twisted him into something unrecognizable.

The third or fourth time it happened, the young communications officer could bear the agonized screams no more, and the black mech _stepped between the treacherous seeker and the dangerous tyrant_ , taking a cue from his commanding officer and remaining utterly silent. Megatron had growled animalistically at being interrupted, and Switchshade’s deep red optics leveled on the floor of the Nemesis, helm bent in respectful fear, but he stubbornly kept his frame in front of Starscream. His interruption gave the warlord pause, the shock of someone daring to step up actually gave him time to think, and realize that perhaps Starscream was not at fault at that time, after all.

“What is this, Switchshade? You would dare to defy me?!” Megatron’s deep voice growled nonetheless, the gray mech angered at the perceived rebellion. The addressed mech trembled, but stood firm, the weak twitching of the broken seeker behind his pedes giving him strength to face the warlord. “Yes, my lord.” He finally spoke quietly, his vocalizer wavering and cutting out once. “And yet, you have drawn no weapon against me. Would you allow me to do to you as I have done to Starscream without fighting back?” the warlord demanded.

“I would defy you, in this, my lord, but never would I betray you. Never would I lift weapon against you, and if you choose to punish me for my defiance and insolence, then far be it from me to attempt to resist.” Shockingly, rather than merciless wrath poured out upon him for his defiance or heavy fists beating him to the ground, the warlord’s response had instead been to laugh, and then to wave him off, granting permission for him to take Starscream to the medbay.

Knockout had patched him up with minimal sarcasm, the severity of the seeker’s wounds enough to keep the medic’s usual snark at bay for the moment, and then Switchshade brought the SIC to his own quarters, using his comms to ask Soundwave to key open the door, as Starscream was far from capable at the time. He eased the seeker onto his berth, and then posted a guard at his door, a mech he knew from amongst the drones, that he knew could be trusted with the SIC’s life, a drone whose designation was ST-3V3, but whom his fellows had affectionately christened ‘Steve’.

Starscream had recovered, and life went on, but frequently, whenever Megatron went a bit too far, whenever the beatings were undeserved or extreme, Switchshade would find himself stepping in again and again, optics down, and protecting the volatile seeker in the only way he could. Many days, Megatron would permit him to leave with the seeker in hand. Some, he was feeling less magnanimous, and the communications officer joined the SIC on the floor, badly beaten and covered in his own energon. Still, he was hardly compelled to stop, as he could not deny that, somewhere in his spark, it felt _wrong_ to do nothing. Laserbeak called him weak, and a fool, to give in to such urges. Soundwave, as ever, _said_ nothing, but the disappointed tilt of his helm whenever his subordinate showed up for a shift with dented and marked up armor spoke volumes of his opinion on Switchshade’s actions.

Still, beyond the beatings themselves, there were no formal reprimands for his behavior, and so it continued. Starscream himself rarely spoke to Switchshade, or even looked at him unless it was absolutely necessary. He had always followed the SIC’s commands as if they were Megatron’s himself, and granted him the respect due his position, and so it seemed there was little reason for the seeker to take issue with him. Privately, the dark mech wondered if Starscream was embarrassed at his helping him, when literally every other Decepticon simply ignored what was right before their optics during Megatron’s rages. The seeker, it seemed, would not easily let go of his pride, and was unwilling to offer his gratitude, but occasionally Switchshade caught a curious sideways glance from the SIC that spoke volumes. Losing his trine had taken a terrible toll on the seeker, and Switchshade was honestly surprised that he hadn’t completely shut down when Thundercracker and Skywarp were offlined. Who was he to judge a mech on how they coped with such terrible loss?

When they had come to earth, Switchshade, possessing a ground frame, scanned the first human vehicle he saw. It was frequently said amongst the drones that Switchshade greatly resembled Knockout in appearance, save for his slightly more slender frame, and the black doorwings that resembled those of the yellow Autobot scout’s. Had his colors been primarily red instead of black, however, he likely would have looked enough like the Decepticon medic to pass most human eyes. As it stood, he could hid in shadows almost as well as Soundwave, with his armor being well over 90% solid black, only the silver Decepticon Emblems on his shoulders and the minimal slim blue accents breaking up the dark design.

For so long, he had been content with his place amongst the ‘Cons. It had been difficult, in the beginning, to take lives of those unable or unwilling to fight back. Sometimes, he wondered if perhaps he was not meant to be a Decepticon, if so many of their ways sat so ill within his spark, but there was nothing else for him. He had seen the corruption of the Senate, and Megatron’s way had seemed wise, at the time. With Soundwave fully supporting the gladiator-turned-warlord, Switchshade had seen no better option. And now, now all that he had had was gone in a nano-second. And for what? A single Autobot, who was more than likely to try to kill him when he awoke regardless? _Why? Why would I do this? What have I done?_

***

Cliffjumper felt as if Bulkhead had decided to use him for a punching bag for a few hours, and then took a nap on top of him. Everything hurt, and warnings were flashing all over his HUD in bright letters, warnings of low energon and grave injuries, although secondary messages were attached to several of these, alerting him to the fact that the majority of the most severe external wounds had been messily patched up.

Onlining his optics seemed to take more energy than usual, and when he first tried to look around, everything was blurry. The cocky racer suppressed a groan, manually muting his vocalizer before resetting his optics. This time, he could see, and in the dim light cast by his biolights, he noticed he was in a cave. Glancing around, he immediately tensed up at the realization that he was not alone in the little cave. Not ten human feet away from him, a Decepticon officer sat curled into himself, faceplates hidden in his servos, distinctive all-black frame a giveaway as to his identity. _Soundwave’s pet._

The Autobots all knew of Soundwave’s apprentice, but had only rarely met him in battle, as he was rarely assigned to combat situations. Often, Cliffjumper only ended up fighting drones, or occasionally Megatron himself or one of the other, higher ranking combat officers. They were typically more than eager to spill Autobot energon with their own servos, and it was almost as rare to face the black mech in combat as it was to face Soundwave himself. However, on the rare occasion he did fight, the dark mech’s fighting ability could rival Cliff’s own, and although he had never been overly antagonistic for a ‘Con, Cliffjumper knew that the mech was a present and active threat to his functioning.

 The Autobot knew he couldn’t just sit there though, and with his injuries any attempt to fight would be unwise, so he decided to hesitantly reach out with his field, trying to obtain a minute amount of notice if the ‘Con decided to suddenly attack. However, when his EM field brushed up against the Decepticon’s, his field teeked of fear, despair, and confusion in equal measure, as well as no small amount of self-loathing.

“Hey, um, so I never actually learned your name, but… Whoa, easy there!” Cliffjumper held up his servos defensively when the ‘Con shot to his pedes, red optics wide with fear and surprise, but instead of attacking, the decepticon backed away rapidly.

“Easy.” he repeated. “Clearly, I’m not going to be able to hurt you, here. So why don’t you just sit back down, and we can have a little chat, ok? I’ll go first. Hi, my name’s Cliffjumper. I’m an Autobot, and apparently was just about to get offlined by Starscream when you decided to step in and save me. Which is kind of confusing, to be honest. Not that I’m not grateful!” The mech decided that perhaps he was rambling, but the ‘Con tensed tellingly at his last sentence, his optics narrowing. He had refused to return to sit beside him again now that he had spoken, instead choosing to sink to sit with his back against the opposite wall, optics never leaving the Autobot’s frame.

***

Switchshade was startled from his increasingly despairing thoughts by the Autobot’s overly cheerful voice, and he startled to his pedes, watching him warily. When he mentioned being grateful, Switchshade couldn’t help but tense up again. When decepticons said they were _grateful_ , it was best to quickly and efficiently put them back in their place, before they got the wrong idea and made a dangerous move. Switchshade had enjoyed interfacing as much as the next mech, but his time with the decepticons and during the war had changed how he saw intimacy a great deal, and in an army where _any_ weakness was ruthlessly exploited, he had quickly learned to avoid even a hint of interfacing if he was not entirely alone, and with someone he trusted implicitly. There was no such mech or femme he could trust on this campaign, however, as the only ‘Cons he might have been able to trust with such vulnerability were his guardian or the clade, which just felt… wrong. To have a stranger, and an enemy at that, offer, was… concerning. Still, his field did not teek of lust or ill intent, mostly pain, curiosity, and a mild wariness at the time, and the Decepticon reconsidered. The drones were always going on about how soft-sparked the Autobots were. Perhaps they did not take instant advantage of weakness? Perhaps they chose to express their gratitude in… safer ways?

“Cliffjumper…” he allowed the name to roll off his vocalizer, his low and slightly rough voice playing with the syllables. “Cliffjumper” he reiterated, more clearly and quickly that time. He nodded, once. “Your gratitude is unnecessary. I am Switchshade. It will not be safe to emerge from this cavern for at least half a cycle, perhaps a bit more if your self-repair is still attempting to patch up the worst of your wounds. We will likely need to fight our way out, and once we are above ground, you can signal your kind to come and retrieve you.”

His piece said, the mech relaxed just enough to lean back against the rocky wall at his back, and he folded his doorwings flat so as to be able to rest his back against it. The Autobot’s eyes widened in surprise at the news that he did not intend to harm him in any way, and rather intended to aid in his escape yet further. “Why? Why would you go through all of this trouble just to let me go? Why save me in the first place? Why did you turn on old Screamer?”

Switchshade glanced at his clear blue optics for a moment, before quickly averting his gaze when the Autobot met his optics fearlessly, the aversion a survival habit long-ingrained from the Nemesis. Prolonged optic contact was a challenge. The ‘Con, having no answer to any of his questions aside from the spark-wrenching sense of _wrongness_ that he felt every time a similar act had been committed against Starscream, simply shrugged a bit and then crossed his arms. Several kliks passed in silence, but it seemed that silence was ill-suited to this Autobot, for he spoke again.

“So… Switchshade, huh? Pretty designation. It suits you.” Cliffjumper grinned flirtatiously, and was surprised to see the ‘Con flinch slightly. He shot Cliffjumper a glare, but did not reply. This, of course, did nothing to deter him, and for the rest of the cycle, the Autobot tried to coax a reaction out of the strange decepticon who had saved him. To his surprise, Switchshade showed little interest in anything he attempted, be it flirtation, insults, questions, or jokes. The other mech was clearly distracted by different thoughts, and only responded when asked a direct question. Still, it was a pleasant surprise, to spend so much time _peacefully_ in the same room as a ‘Con. Hadn’t happened since the beginning of the war, and Cliffjumper was a very social mech. Stuck in a cave, he found himself just talking, about anything and everything that came to his processor. For his part, Switchshade was actually rather courteous, if distant, and the time passed astonishingly quickly.

Switchshade’s optics, which had dulled slightly from prolonged inactivity, suddenly brightened and flicked to meet Cliffjumper’s when the Autobot unfolded his legs and rose, shaking his frame out a bit as he did so to rid it of lingering stiffness. Warily, Switchshade rose to his pedes as well, standing at nearly exactly the same height as the red Chevy in root mode. Seeing the wariness in his optics, Cliffjumper felt a jolt of mischief run through him, and he suddenly flared his plating, causing the ‘Con to drop a pede back half a step as he crouched, preparing for an attack, only to realize that the Autobot was _laughing_. “Tense, ‘Shade?”

Switchshade straightened up again, his engine rumbling once in anger, but he chose not to reply, instead gesturing for Cliffjumper to precede him out of the cave’s entrance. The Autobot grinned, bowing mockingly, and obeyed, moving to take point as the ‘Con instinctively took up a position slightly behind his left shoulder. They moved silently, Cliff shrugging off the discomfort of a having a long-time enemy at his back, and it wasn’t until they were nearly at the surface that the Decepticon suddenly attacked, pinning him to one of the walls. It was pure chance that he managed to recognize Switchshade’s field did not teek of aggression or ill intent before his battle protocols could prompt him to respond in kind. The other mech just pinned him there, a black, clawed servo over his vocalizer, the blazing red eyes focused on the huge open cavern up ahead.

Taking a moment to tune his audials in, the Autobot’s eyes widened as he heard what Switchshade must have not moments before. _Megatron_. He was speaking, presumably to Starscream, as the seeker’s distinctive voice responded, and Cliffjumper nodded minutely to indicate his understanding to Switchshade, who immediately released him to move a bit closer, the Autobot following without hesitation. Now, they could begin to make out what was being said, and both froze in stunned horror when Megatron mentioned the blood of _Unicron_.

“Legend tells that it holds the power to revive the dead.” The SIC’s voice was equal parts awe and shock, and Switchshade narrowed his eyes as he knew what was coming. “We require only a cadaver to be certain. Are you willing to make the ultimate sacrifice?” The warlord’s voice was darker and more menacing than Switchshade remembered, which was quite a feat when one considered past experience. Starscream chuckled nervously, backing away, and then spoke the words Switchshade had dreaded.

“That… may not be necessary. If I may, Lord Megatron, I had the most delightful opportunity to vanquish the spark of the Autobot Cliffjumper, but before I could deliver the killing blow, I was stopped. By one of our own, Soundwave’s little pet, Switchshade. He betrayed m-us, all Decepticons, and you, my lord, with his treacherous actions. If we find him, I beg you for the honor of extinguishing his spark myself, and then we will have your cadaver, my lord.”

            A sudden beeping startled both Cliffjumper and Switchshade enough for both to flinch; though the sound was quiet enough not to attract the Decepticon lord’s attention _thank Primus_. Cliffjumper quickly shut off the alert on the life signal tracker that Ratchet had insisted be installed on all their mechs on earth several earth years ago, and then offered a sheepish grin to his companion, who stared at him in distaste. [[What?]] he commed Switchshade on a public channel, but one that had not been used since pre-war times, hoping that none of the drones around got bored and began searching for just such a frequency. [[We must have been too deep in the caves, and it registered as me being offlined. That was the tracker just picking up again. Now, at least, ‘my kind’ as you put it, will know where to find me.]] The dark mech shook his head, but sent an affirmative ping across the line before shutting it down again to listen, for Megatron was speaking once more.

            “Your incompetence astounds me, Starscream. You had one of the Autobots at your very servos, and you still couldn’t offline him?” The SIC flinched away, quickly spitting out further excuses and blaming Switchshade once again, and was surprised to see that mercy was to be his that day, for instead of reaching for the seeker to test out the dark energon, Megatron instead leaned over and casually snatched up a passing drone, a burst of panicked static the last sound it would ever make as its spark was suddenly ripped from its chassis by the warlord. “Do not fail me again, Starscream.” Megatron warned, before laying down the now-lifeless frame, and immediately shoving the dark energon into the gaping hole in its chassis.

            What followed was enough to make Switchshade want to purge, his tanks roiling and flipping inside of him. The drone, (the _mech_ , he had been around them and interacted with them enough to know that they were as sentient as any other mecha, despite the common belief amongst Decepticon high command) suddenly lurched up, its now-purple optics once again full of life, but it was an insane animal madness, no trace of sentience or even intelligence left. The vehicon’s mouth hung open, and a series of screeching clicks and moans sounded, as it instantly lunged to try to bite at Megatron. “ _This_ is your plan?” Starscream screeched, whatever else he might have said was lost to the pair who still hid several paces away, drowned out by the enraged and mindless shrieking of the creature that had once been a vehicon.

            Megatron had easily caught the creature by the throat, and threw it from him violently. It instantly rose, but instead of returning to the warlord, it turned on its fellows, tearing two of them to shreds in seconds. Then, it once again tried to attack the warlord, only to be sliced in half by one of his deadly blades, and the pieces fell deep down into one of the caverns below. Even then, even as the two separate pieces of the mech fell, it still screeched and shrieked and growled as it fell.

            “There, Starscream. There lies the indestructible seed of my army. The ultimate weapon.” The warlord’s voice made Switchshade shudder again. “Once I can control it.”

 


	3. Capture

“I gotta warn them. This is bad.” Cliffjumper whispered, more to himself than to his companion, and received a look of warning for his trouble. [[Come.]] Switchshade commed him, pushing gently at his shoulder plating to urge him to follow as he retreated back down deeper into the depths of the caves again. The reached one of the lower floors, further from the Lord of the Decepticons and his Second, and managed to edge around away from the drones undetected. A quick self-scan revealed that while his self-repair was doing an admirable job at keeping him alive and fixing some of the more dangerous wounds, Cliffjumper’s long-range comms were still disabled, and calling for backup was currently impossible.

Fortunately, Primus seemed to be in an unreasonably good mood for once, for suddenly a groundbridge opened up mere meters away from them, and Optimus Prime himself stepped out, causing Switchshade to whimper quietly in terror and debate the pros and cons of just bolting for the nearest exit. In an instant, three more Autobots had followed their leader through the groundbridge, weapons charged and at the ready, and already trained on Switchshade, who locked his knee joints to keep them from collapsing. He was no slouch in a fight, and he’d like to think he’d left cowardice behind vorns ago, but this was _Optimus Prime_. Inwardly, fear clouded his processor and made him dizzy, while outwardly he kept his faceplates blank and emotionless; his own blasters already leveled on the large green Wrecker, and the yellow scout. He didn’t quite dare to directly threaten the Prime, even though he was already vastly outnumbered. Switchshade kept his gaze on the four Autobots before him, and tried to keep from trembling as he realized that the odds of him walking away from this fight were… not good. At all.

“Cliff? You ok?” the blue femme in front of the Prime asked, her own blasters leveled directly at Switchshade’s spark. The Decepticon’s optics flickered to her when she spoke, and in that moment of distraction, the dark mech forgot that it was not four Autobots he was facing, it was five. A red mass moved from behind him, colliding with his back and quickly dropping him to his faceplates before he could fire on either of his original targets. In the instant of surprise, Cliffjumper quickly struck sharply at Switchshade’s helm, again and again, until the mech’s vision went blurry. A burst of static escaped his vocalizer, and he managed to gather enough of his wits to buck up, the sudden movement throwing the racer off of him, but before he could even think about lifting his blasters again, another ‘Bot was on top of him, the yellow scout quickly slapping a pair of immobilizing cuffs on his wrists while he was still dazed from Cliffjumper’s attack.

Still, he kicked out, somehow managing to throw off Bumblebee as well, and he rolled up to his pedes, terror causing his spark to lurch and his vision to blur as he tried to assess the threat before him. Countless warnings of damage and nearby enemies flashed across his HUD, and with his servos bound behind him, his chances of survival dwindled yet further. He tugged desperately, mindlessly at the bonds even as he tried to back away. Yet another flash of movement, and his sluggish processor recognized the blue femme before Switchshade found himself on the ground once again. Arcee instantly followed through with the takedown, jumping on the Decepticon’s back, pinning down his door wings and immediately precision striking him, once, at the base of his helm, causing the black mech to lose consciousness instantly.

The commotion alerted the drones to the intruders, and Cliffjumper quickly alerted his team to the presence of not only Starscream but also Megatron himself, and with no further prompting, Optimus ordered the Autobots to retreat. They began to do so, but Cliffjumper hesitated by Switchshade, looking to the Prime for permission. Optimus caught the look, glanced at the fallen mech, and then nodded once, providing cover fire for Cliffjumper as he quickly lifted Switchshade up and carried him through the groundbridge, Optimus following on his heels. The Prime paused at the entrance of the groundbridge, firing a single shot directly into one of the largest piles of raw energon, and sparking a chain reaction that suddenly began to explode, as the entire cavern system was turned into what essentially amounted to an enormous bomb. He transformed then, making it through the groundbridge just in time for it to close behind him, the base safe from the force of a blast many miles away.

***

Switchshade groaned softly, his vocalizer hitching as he felt the sudden and irrational urge to weep, the pain running through his frame enough to catch him off guard. _Have I truly gotten so accustomed to Megatron’s absence, then, that a single beating is enough to level me so? But… I don’t remember Megatron coming back, and Starscream was fine when I last saw him, and… Oh Pit…_

He sat up slowly, onlining his optics in dread, and winced when he realized where he was. He had been taken to a holding cell at the Autobots’ base while unconscious, and was now to be tormented until all useful information had been extracted from him and his broken frame discarded. He thought he had known terror before, but now… At least in times past, had he been captured, he knew that Soundwave would have immediately arranged a rescue, and made certain that he was returned to the Decepticons alive and well. Now, though, after all he had done… _Oh. Pit._

***

Cliffjumper liked to think he was a fairly laid-back mech, unless someone was looking to frag him off (you mess with the bull, you’re gonna get the horns, but everyone knew that), but this was really rather ridiculous. He had barely stepped one pede inside, before Ratchet rushed him off to the medbay. Of course, no one had dared to argue with him, because _Primus help the mech who angered The Hatchet when he had a patient._

At least the patch-up job was fairly quick, due in equal parts to Ratchet’s supreme skills, and to Cliffjumper’s self repairs working overtime in addition to the basic field patches Switchshade had managed to makeshift for the mech earlier that day. Several breems later, Cliffjumper found himself on his pedes again, and the team was nothing short of ecstatic to see him alive and well. Arcee especially was overjoyed at his safety, and immediately pulled him into a fierce embrace, vowing to never again let him out of her sight.

Bulkhead chuckled at that, and muttered in an aside to Bumblebee an offer for a wager when one or the other of the two would admit to their feelings, and ask the other to become their  conjunx endura. It was, of course, overheard, and there was no shortage of blushing and death threats to be had from the blue femme and red mech. Optimus stood by, a small smile on their leader’s faceplates, and even Ratchet had to fight a fond smile of his own, instead choosing to shake his head and grumble, “Sparklings” as he returned to his science station in the main room where they had gathered.

***

_Traitor. Useless. Filth. Worthless. Weak. Traitor. Helpless. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Autobot prisoner._

  Switchshade struggled to continue to invent and exvent. It may not have been strictly necessary for survival, but it helped him to _almost_ manage the panic. He fought back the terror, trying to take stock of his circumstances. He was now an Autobot prisoner, and these were not merely Autobot _soldiers_.

They had a former Wrecker, Bulkhead, who was bound to be just as rough and merciless as Breakdown could be on his bad days. They had Bumblebee, the scout who had been little more than a sparkling at the start of the war, and yet who had faced down _Megatron’s_ tortures while so young, and not only lived to tell the tale, but continued to fight valiantly for his cause. They had a femme, as well, although Switchshade knew little of Arcee, only hearsay and rumors in addition to the Decepticon database files.

Most important (and terrifying), though, were the two oldest mechs on the Autobot team. Ratchet, the Medic-from-the-Pit, feared by Decepticons and Autobots alike, or so the stories went. Even Laserbeak had been hesitant to say much of the old medic, and from the word the drones passed around, it was a better fate to bleed out slowly from losing a leg than to find yourself under the Dread Doctor’s servos in his medbay. He made Knockout look positively _safe_.

And then, there was the _Prime himself_. Optimus Prime. The very same mech who had known and even been friends with Megatron when he had been but a gladiator. Pit, the Prime had known Megatron almost as long as Soundwave had. The Prime had faced down the warlord in hand to hand combat, and come out successful more often than not, and Switchshade knew that, no matter his skill, if the Prime decided he would not be of use, then there would be no escaping certain death at his servos. Primus, he carried the Matrix itself in his chassis!

He shivered uncontrollably, plating rattling violently in his helpless terror, and he drew his knees up to his chassis, wishing he could draw his still-bound arms from behind his back to feel even slightly less vulnerable. Instead, he simply buried his faceplates in trembling knees and tried to keep himself from shutting down in terror. He tried to invent slowly, held it as long as he could, and then released a shaky exvent. He repeated the process several times, until he could think more clearly, and then tried to decide on a course of action. Obviously returning to the Decepticons was out, even if he _did_ manage to escape. Starscream, ironically, would never allow a traitor to return to their ranks, let alone one who had so humiliated _him_ as Switchshade had in taking his kill right from under his faceplates.

With Megatron now returned, his chances of survival dwindled into single digits. Becoming a Neutral party was a nice thought, for a moment, but what could he do? All major energon deposits on the planet were claimed, be they by Autobot or Decepticon hands, and the minor deposits he _might_ be able to find would not be enough to keep him functioning. If he tried to make it on his own, he’d be dead in half a stellar cycle. And that’s thinking optimistically. This left the ex-‘Con with but one choice. Somehow, he needed to find a way to convince the Autobots that not only was he worth keeping, but that he could be trusted too. That he could somehow make himself useful enough to be kept.

 _No matter what, I need to prove I can be useful. I… I need to do anything, everything, to convince them I will obey. I won’t be trouble, I can… Pit, anything. I… I will obey_ … He trembled again.

***

Bumblebee listened with his head cocked as Cliffjumper told his tale to the five Autobots and three human children that were gathered around. His fight with the drones, Starscream almost killing him, and then Soundwave’s pet saving his life and managing to get him off the Nemesis and to the caverns. Bulkhead, Arcee, and Bumblebee all exclaimed loudly and began to debate as to why exactly he had done so, quickly agreeing that it was a trap and that he could not be trusted. Cliffjumper looked disinclined to disagree, but as he and Bulkhead began to debate what they should do with their prisoner now, Bumblebee glanced to see Optimus’ reaction.

For his part, Ratchet refrained from grumbling; instead crossing his arms and cocking his head thoughtfully, silently parsing out what, exactly, his motives might have been. Optimus had said nothing throughout the telling, merely listening intently to Cliff’s report, and when he had finished, the Prime nodded gravely. “We will go and speak with Switchshade. Perhaps he will be willing to tell us his intent behind his actions.”

Arcee scoffed skeptically, but refrained from arguing, staying nearly glued to Cliffjumper’s side. Miko had joined in the argument between Bulkhead and Cliff, having introduced herself somewhere between the report and the discussion’s beginning, and was now demanding that she be permitted to join in the ‘interrogation’. Jack watched the proceedings with wide eyes, still wanting only to go home, and Raf stayed near to Bumblebee, mild concern in his clever eyes.

Once the main debate was out of the way, Cliffjumper then informed them of the conversation between Megatron and Starscream that he had overheard, and of the horror that had followed. Of how the vehicon had been killed, and then somehow resurrected, but it was a horrific parody of life, and the creature had possessed no trace of sentience, or of any desire beyond that to kill blindly.

“This is troubling indeed. We will need to keep a close watch on Megatron now that he has returned, for I have little doubt that he will move against us soon. He must be growing desperate to conclude this war, if he has stooped so low as to resort to such dark methods.” Optimus’ voice was unusually grave, even for him.

It was quickly decided that the humans were to be returned to their homes, for the evening at least, and each was sent home with their respective guardians with no little protest from Miko. Arcee, surprisingly, seemed content with breaking her recent vow to not let Cliff out of her sight again, but she caught Ratchet before she left with Jack, making the medic swear to induce medical stasis if Cliffjumper even hinted at leaving the base before she returned.

As soon as they had left, Cliffjumper, Optimus, and Ratchet went to visit their ‘guest’.

 


	4. Interrogations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is as much as I had written, so updates will probably be sporadic from here on out. Fair warning. Seriously though, that's kind of my MO, and I'm coming to terms with it. I always start with the best of intentions to keep a semi-regular update schedule, and then real life happens and suddenly its a month later and nada. Oops. Heads up.

On the way to the holding cell, Ratchet pulled up a vidscreen of the cell, the defined image showing the decepticon sitting in the far corner of the room, his dark plating drawn in tight, as close to his frame as possible. His knees were pulled up to his chassis, his faceplates hidden in shaking knee joints. In fact, his shoulderplates were shaking as well, and when the CMO turned on the audio that corresponded with the video feed, they could just make out nearly silent, choked gasps.

            “Whoa now. What prompted that? He’s been captured before, right Optimus? Why all the-” and here Cliffjumper gestured to the prisoner’s defensive posture in the video, “-crying, and whatnot? He didn’t do that last time.”

            “I am not certain, Cliffjumper.” The Prime’s deep, rumbling voice was troubled. They had taken Decepticon prisoners before, but they had never been treated unjustly, or with anything even close to the torments the Decepticons themselves treated their prisoners to. Switchshade had only been taken once, after a stunning victory against the Decepticons, but Soundwave’s drone had located him before he could be questioned, and the Spymaster himself had managed to retrieve him before he had come into direct contact with any of the Autobot officers now stationed on earth.

            They reached the cell then, and when Optimus opened the door, the prisoner’s frame went eerily still. The immobilizing cuffs were still on his wrists, but he still managed to rise somewhat gracefully, standing on his pedes as terror-filled red optics met the Prime’s for the barest instant. Almost immediately, they widened even farther in astonishment and renewed fear, before the prisoner dropped quickly to his knees, bowing his helm until his forehelm nearly brushed the ground, his arms twisted up behind him as the cuffs kept them forced back.

***

            _Slag. Scrap. Slagging Pit-Spawn. Pit. Scrap. Fragging… Why? Optimus Prime himself? What knowledge could they possibly think I might have that would warrant my interrogation by the **Prime** himself?_

            Switchshade wasted no time in dropping to a familiar pose, one that often managed to mitigate the damage when Megatron had become exceedingly enraged with his SIC, and did not show any signs of ceasing his attacks even after the intelligence officer stepped in. Minute shudders still coursed through his frame, but now, at least, the terrible anticipation was over. Now, the pain would come, and then, perhaps, if they could not be persuaded to keep him, at least they might offline him quickly.

            Silence. One klik, then two, and the silence began to make him even more uncomfortable. What were they waiting for? There wasn’t much else he could do to show he was willing to comply… Slowly, Switchshade raised his helm a fraction, tilting it up just enough for fearful red optics to meet the shocked blue of the Prime, only to immediately dart away, and he instantly dropped his helm back to the floor. He tried to speak, but his vocalizer glitched, and he had to reset it and try again. “Optimus Prime.”

            “Switchshade.” The Prime’s deep voice was oddly gentle, but this was still entirely too much like the times he had stood between Starscream and Megatron, and the captive took no comfort in the false reassurance in the Prime’s tone. “Please, get up. There is no need to kneel.”

            Switchshade pushed himself upright obediently, unsteadily making it to his pedes on the second try. He glanced at the red Autobot, Cliffjumper, that he had taken from Starscream, and wondered if he would be assisting in the interrogation, and then he saw a bulky white and orange frame with distinctive medic markings at the Prime’s other side, and his vocalizer glitched static again. His optics flashed nearly white with terror, and his vision went blurry once again.

            “Please.” It took Switchshade a moment to realize that he was the one who had spoken. As if that single word had been enough to break a dam, suddenly he found pleas pouring from his vocalizer without his permission, desperate and broken. “Please, I beg of you, Lord Prime, I will cooperate. I will obey, I will answer anything and everything you command, I will do all that is asked of me, I will-”

            “Primus! Stop, now!” Cliffjumper interrupted, his faceplates and field showing discomfort and mild irritation, as well as something entirely too close to concern for comfort. “We ain’t gonna… torture you, or anything. Just take it easy!”

            The ‘Con didn’t look up, clearly skeptical of the racer’s promise but not daring to contradict him, instead nodding quickly but keeping his optics locked on the floor.

            Optimus narrowed his optics at the prisoner, and then moved closer. Switchshade saw the much larger mech approaching, and another tiny whimper emerged from his vocalizer without his permission, turning quickly into a panicked burst of static when the Prime reached for him. “No, please, no, I beg of you, no, no _please_!” Switchshade tried to back away, but was quickly stopped by the wall behind him.

A large blue hand that lacked the claws so common to Decepticons but was more than capable of tearing a mech in two with ease landed on the ‘Con’s shoulderplate, and he flinched violently, immediately offlining his optics, but the pain he anticipated didn’t come. Instead, the Prime steadied his trembling frame, and then gently turned Switchshade to the side so he could reach the mag-cuffs and key in the code to release them. The cuffs hit the floor of the cell with a definitive clang, and then the Prime moved back a few paces. Switchshade’s optics onlined again, and he stared in mute astonishment at the Prime as he slowly, disbelievingly brought his servos around in front of him again, his right servos’ claws gently massaging the sore wrist-joint of his left.

“Cliffjumper is correct. We are not here to harm you, Switchshade. I have a few questions for you regarding your allegiances and recent actions, and then Ratchet will take a look at you to ensure any lingering injuries from the fight are healing properly. You will not be tortured or harmed in any way unless you attempt to fight or harm any of us.”

Switchshade reset his optics, nervous gaze flicking from ‘bot to ‘bot, seeking any hint of a lie, but all three mechs appeared sincere. His spark churned within his chassis at the thought of Ratchet ‘taking a look’ at him, but he had sworn to obey. Whatever pain was to come his way, at least the medic was skilled enough to cause only the amounts of damage he desired, and not to cause permanent damage unless such was his wish. Resigned, Switchshade quickly bowed his helm. “As you command, Lord Prime.” His rough, low voice was still slightly shaky, but steadier than it had been mere kliks ago.

The questions were brief, and easy to answer, to Switchshade’s surprise. He had expected twists of speech to trap him, or for the Prime to demand information regarding the location of the Nemesis or Megatron’s plans, but he was only a lowly communications officer. He didn’t have half the intel Soundwave possessed, and even Knockout or Breakdown were more likely to have more tactical knowledge that might be of use to the Autobots. Unless the Autobots were really, _really_ interested in the mundane, day-to-day lives of the vehicons and the typical scheduled shifts and rations, Switchshade had no useful information to give. The Nemesis was in constant motion due to Megatron’s understandable paranoia, and any other intel the communications officer might have possessed would be moot by now, due to Soundwave’s skills.

However, instead of questions of a tactical nature, the Prime seemed to only want to know information about Switchshade himself. It made _no sense_. Regardless of his confusion as to the nature of the questions, Switchshade answered each as honestly as he could, knowing if he was caught in a lie, it would go badly for him. Soon, much sooner than he had expected, the Prime concluded his questioning, and then departed the cell, Cliffjumper accompanying him, the racer having been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the interrogation, his faceplates and field full of conflicted confusion.

Then, it was only Switchshade and Ratchet left in the cell, and when the medic made as if to approach, the ‘Con flinched again.

***

Ratchet resisted the urge to sigh as he watched the decepticon currently cowering away from him against the far wall of the cell, his field teeking of ill-concealed despair and terror. _By the Allspark, what does Megatron do to those under his command?_ the old medic mused. He raised an eyebrow in question when the other mech made no move to do anything other than plaster his shoulderplates and doorwings to the far wall and shield his helm with shaking servos.

“Didn’t you say you’d be cooperative, kid? Get over here and let me check you so I can leave you in peace for a bit. You’re gonna have a spark attack, you’re so worked up. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m a medic, you know that.”

Switchshade nodded shakily, lowering his servos and obediently moving to where the medic directed, though he still couldn’t stop shaking. “Yes, sir, it is said you are the best medic Cybertron has ever seen… but that does not mean that you aren’t an _exceptionally_ skilled warrior as well, sir.”

Ratchet gave into the urge to sigh.

***

Switchshade sat against the far wall, staring at the blank gray door of his cell in mute astonishment. The medic hadn’t harmed him. Had told him to drop the ‘sir’, had _healed_ him. Him! An enemy, and a prisoner at that! And then, Ratchet had simply up and left, left Switchshade unharmed. He had been taken captive by the Autobots, interrogated by the Prime himself, and been placed at Ratchet’s mercy for a medical examination, and had by some miracle of Primus himself managed to come out the other side _less_ damaged than he had been beforehand.

From the hallway beyond his cell, there was a crashing sound far too quiet to have been made by a Cybertronian, a muffled curse, and suddenly Switchshade found himself staring at a tiny human. The young human, female, if he had to guess, although it could be hard to tell with humans, had somehow managed to lever herself up to the tiny barred window at the top of the door to the holding cell, and was now perched in the opening between the bars, looking behind her in horror. Switchshade rose to his pedes without thinking, moving over towards to the human, and catching a glimpse of a makeshift ladder that had fallen down on the other side of his cell door. The ‘Con couldn’t repress a grin. It would seem one of the Autobot’s pets had become curious about their prisoner, and had decided to try to take a peek at him, before accidentally dropping her only way back down, effectively stranding her in the cell door’s barred window.

The human, far from flinching away from the Decepticon, instead straightened to her full height and glared at him, though the effect was dampened somewhat by the fact that she was clinging to one of the bars in the window for dear life. “You don’t scare me, ‘Con! If you even think about hurting me, Bulkhead will pound you into scrap metal!” She snarled, her high pitched voice and colorful… armor (?) making the overall effect much more adorable than intimidating. Dangerous, sharp black claws gently grasped the human about the waist, and though she tried to struggle and cry for help, she was no match for Switchshade’s strength, and it seemed the Autobots had moved out of audial range.

Switchshade gently lowered the human, who was still trying to struggle and spit threats at him at the same time, to the floor, setting her down carefully inside his cell and then retreating a pace or two, a bemused look on his faceplates. She was rather like those tiny earth animals, kittens, in her threats and hissing at a much larger and more dangerous threat. The ‘Con repressed another smile, knowing it was likely to only further enrage the little creature.

“I mean you no harm, little one. I know well what your friends would do to me should I cause you to come to harm in any way.” He spoke softly, his low voice reassuring as he cut off her tirade of abuse. She paused, her eyes widening and mouth dropping open in surprise at his words. “Oh. Yeah, you better be scared! ‘Cause Bulkhead, he’s my guardian. And he wouldn’t let you hurt me! He’ll pound you into scrap metal!” Switchshade offlined his vocalizer to keep from laughing, refraining from pointing out that if he really desired to harm her, the Wrecker would be unable to reach her in time.

He simply nodded, and that seemed to be enough. “I’m Miko, by the way. Who are you? Did you really save Cliffjumper? What’s it like with the Decepticons? Is Megatron really as evil as they say? Why did you save Cliffjumper? Why did they capture you? Are you going to keep fighting the ‘Bots?”

Switchshade blinked. “I… My designation is Switchshade. Yes, I did do what I could to aid Cliffjumper in his escape. I’m not entirely certain how to answer your other questions, but in regards to the last, if I have any say in the matter, no, I will no longer lift a servo against the Autobots unless I have no other choice.

Miko glanced at him consideringly, and Switchshade wondered if that was enough, but then the human smiled brightly and launched into another round of questions. As he began to try to answer, Switchshade was struck with another wave of amusement at the realization that a human was drawing more information from him than Optimus Prime had.

This second, impromptu interrogation continued for several joors, until the sound of a very large mech running came to Switchshade’s audials, and he froze where he sat across from Miko in the middle of answering why, exactly, he had chosen Switchshade as his designation. Moments later, the door to the cell burst open, and Bulkhead stood in the entrance, in full battle mode, his enraged blue optics locked on Switchshade. The ‘Con tried to rise to his pedes, to explain, but the Wrecker didn’t give him the chance. Bulkhead’s fist collided with the black mech’s helm, the powerful blow sending him flying back into the wall before his frame collapsed into a heap on the floor, the suddenness of the attack not allowing Switchshade any chance to begin to think of any kind of defense.

“Miko! Are you alright? Did this piece of scrap hurt you at all?” The Wrecker demanded of his human friend, even as he continued to advance on Switchshade, who curled into a ball on the floor, drawing his knees up to protect his chassis as his arms and servos were pulled up in an attempt to protect his helm. _That didn’t take long for me to earn my first punishment_ he mused darkly, before curling up even tighter and waiting for the blows to continue as Bulkhead advanced.


	5. Prisoner Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit shorter chapter this time, but hey! It's a lot sooner than anticipated (on my end)! My sincerest gratitude for all of the lovely comments, all feedback is appreciated! Enjoy.

The ex-Con waited. And waited. And then waited some more. The large green Wrecker’s footsteps had halted a few paces from him, yet not further violence was forthcoming. _Yet_ , he reminded himself. Bulkhead was not known for his patience. Perhaps he was merely savoring the moment, trying to decide which part of Switchshade he wanted to destroy first. The black mech didn’t move out of his defensive position.

“Wait!” the sharp, loud cry startled him, and he flinched involuntarily before peeking out from behind his arms to stare incredulously at the little human, who had run to stand between the two Cybertronians. Switchshade looked up at Bulkhead’s faceplates, wondering if the Wrecker would show his rage at having his fun interrupted, and cycled his optics in surprise when he saw that the green mech’s faceplates looked… horrified? _Why? I have done no damage to the human. Why does he look so… shocked? Is it repulsion? I cower like a sparkling, but I dare not attempt to engage in battle with him, that would do nothing but gravely harm any scrap of a chance I might have to convince them to let me stay._

The human was talking, fast and clear words spilling from her lips, but Switchshade was distracted when Bulkhead moved closer again. He dropped his gaze to the smooth metal floor of his cell and held very still, only to be surprised once again when a hand far, far too small to be that of any Cybertronian landed on his servo. “Hey, take it easy, ‘Shade. Bulk… he ain’t gonna smash you.” Switchshade blinked down at the tiny human, and then looked up at the Wrecker again. “Come on, Miko… Let’s just… Let’s go.”

The black mech watched in disbelief as the human patted his servo a few more times and then ran over to her guardian, who cast him one last, confused glance before leaving his cell. The door closed surprisingly gently behind the green Wrecker, and Switchshade’s audials could pick up Bulkhead quietly asking Miko what had happened as they moved away down the hallway. _What in the name of Primus was **that**_?!

***

Switchshade idly stretched, then rose to his pedes several joors later. The Wrecker had not returned, and there had been no further sign of life from the Autobots since Bulkhead and his pet’s departure. The dark mech tried to scan the base for signs of life-forms, either organic or Cybertronian, but he found his sensors blocked, even as his weapons and communications systems were. His engine rumbled once in discontent before he settled, scowling at the blank gray door, and then he peered through the bars.

From what his audials could pick up, the scout, Bulkhead, and the femme had each taken their respective pets out of the base for unknown recreational activities. Cliffjumper had accompanied Arcee and her pet, and had seemed quite content to race them out of the base, if the taunts Switchshade could hear as they departed were any indication. The Prime’s whereabouts were unknown, but images of the powerful Autobot in full battle fury were enough to make the ‘Con quite content with the Prime anywhere but where Switchshade was. The Hatchet, however, had not left the base, if his quiet mutterings coming from down the hallway several paces were any indication.

Switchshade realized he should be grateful for the reprieve, thankful that the Autobots had left off torturing him for information and had left him entirely unscathed, but he felt… odd. On the Nemesis, there was essentially no such thing as being alone. Soundwave had optics and audials everywhere, and Laserbeak was a near constant presence with Switchshade when Soundwave himself was otherwise occupied. The silence didn’t get to the black mech nearly as much as the lack of anything useful to do; and the sensation of being… alone. Even though he knew he was likely under surveillance, the semblance of privacy felt strange.

Half a cycle later, another problem presented itself. Switchshade’s repair systems had done an efficient job at repairing the damage done in the fall from the Nemesis and the fight that had followed, but he had not refueled in some time before the incident with Cliffjumper had ever happened, and now a great deal of his frame’s energon had gone into repairing him, his levels were dangerously low. He rose to his pedes again and paced for several joors longer, before peering out his window again, wondering if the Autobot medic would care about their prisoner’s state of being.

 Truthfully, Switchshade knew that the best he could hope for was indifference-it was much more likely that the medic would become angry with his undeserved demands and assign an appropriate penalty to the prisoner. Still… as another warning popped up on his HUD, this time blaring red instead of warning yellow, the ex-‘Con knew he had little choice. At least this way, if he collapsed from lack of energon, the Autobots would know what happened.

“Sir… Ratchet? I… I realize that it’s probably not my place, but I wished-to ask you… _Pit_. Never mind. I’m so sorry.”

He flinched away from the door, moving back to the back of his cell again, hoping beyond hope that his tentative words had not reached the medic. _Too little_ , _too late_ , he realized fearfully, as the sound of pacing pedesteps from the common room paused and then began to approach his cell.

 _Fool! Why didn’t you leave well enough alone? Have you learned nothing? Keep your vocalizer shut and your head down if you want to survive! You’re a prisoner! Not some guest! Now you will be at **Ratchet’s** mercy, and it could have been avoided if you’d only dealt with such a minor issue!_ He berated himself even as he cowered back against the far wall, the medic’s warm blue optics peering through the bars curiously as he keyed the door open.

“Switchshade? What is it?” Ratchet’s usually gruff voice was uncommonly gentle as he moved into the cell, and Switchshade locked his knee joints to keep them from rattling.

“N-Nothing, Sir-Ratchet! Ratchet. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to- I didn’t… I meant no disrespect. I apologize for wasting your time in such a fashion, I should not have spoken without being prompted, I forgot myself, I beg your forgiveness.”

He bowed his helm in respect, praying Primus (though why should Primus favor _him_? The Matrix that rested in Optimus _Prime’s_ chassis should clearly state where the deity’s favor rested) that Ratchet would return to his work and leave the prisoner alone in his cell despite his presumption.

***

Ratchet paused in his pacing when he heard a tentative call from the Deception in the holding cell, pulling his processor from his increasingly dark thoughts of what, exactly, Megatron could do with the blood of Unicron at his command. He furrowed his brow in confusion at the hesitance and borderline fear in the dark mech’s voice, and hurried to see what had prompted the ‘Con to speak up.

Arriving at the entrance of the door, the medic paused in surprise at the terror he could teek in the prisoner’s field, and he risked a glance inside as he entered the code to open the door. Deliberately softening his voice to one he had used frequently in the war at the side of gravely wounded mechs he was performing emergency field procedures on as he asked, “Switchshade? What is it?”

He moved slowly into the cell, keeping his servos open and nonthreatening, and frowned at the black mech’s trembling reply.

“…Kid…” The medic heaved another sigh. “Look, I won’t come any closer, alright? Just-try to calm down. I can practically hear your spark racing from here. I told you I wasn’t going to hurt you, and that wasn’t a lie.” The ‘Con looked up, dark red optics wary, but he made a clear effort to calm himself as he managed to stop his plating from rattling. Much.

Ratchet watched him for a moment more, noting the quick, hesitant glances as the younger mech clearly made an attempt to avoid direct eye contact without being terribly unsubtle. The medic raised an eyebrow, then simply sent a full-frame scan over the prisoner to see if whatever had prompted Switchshade to speak had been a physiological issue. His findings had him exclaiming in shock, “By the Allspark! When did you last refuel?!”


	6. Prisoner Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There have been some really encouraging comments on this story, which are honestly the only reason I've been motivated to write this much this fast. The trend probably won't continue, but I will continue to update as frequently as possible. My gratitude to everyone who has taken the time to comment, read, leave kudos, etc as always, and I hope you'll enjoy this next chapter.
> 
> Quick side note: I know its not super likely that Cliffjumper was somehow mysteriously contaminated by a small amount of dark energon, but we're all going to anger Shockwave and ignore that bit of illogical reasoning. I couldn't resist keeping the scene with Ratchet fighting a tiny evil dark energon creature and needing to be saved by Optimus. It's too good xD. Another quick note, there's not much for friendly physical contact on the Nemesis, and Soundwave isn't a very tactile mech, so the most physical contact (entirely platonic, in this setting) that Switchshade has received in vorns that hasn't been fighting is the odd brush of Laserbeak now and then. With this in mind, his reaction at the end might make a bit more sense. Enjoy.

 

            Switchshade’s optics widened at the medic’s outburst, and it was only by sheer force of will that he kept himself from taking a step back. “I… It has been several of earth’s solar cycles. We… Energon is in somewhat short supply on the Nemesis, and Lord Megatron is- was… I… It has been some time since.... I-I will be fine, though. Please, don’t-”

            He cut himself off as Ratchet moved closer, lifting a servo, and the ex ‘Con flinched at the motion, expecting a strike. Instead, he realized the medic had taken an energon cube from his subspace and was trying to hand it to him. He waited patiently, the energon still in his extended servo, until Switchshade hesitantly reached out and took it carefully.

            He paused before drinking, however, glancing at the medic questioningly, and quietly asking, “A-Are you certain, Ratchet? I know that your supplies are not as high as would be ideal, either. I. I can wait, if you prefer. I don’t want to be a bother, o-or an unnecessary drain on your resources.”

            Ratchet wanted to be gentle and soothing, he really did, but he couldn’t suppress his nature forever. The medic’s optics narrowed. “I said I wasn’t going to hurt you, kid, and I meant it. That includes not starving you as well, you know. Now, I can tell you’re still skittish of me, and I understand that’ll take some time, but for now, if you want to _avoid_ fraggin’ me off, you’ll drink the whole cube and then get some recharge. Understood?”

            Surprisingly, instead of frightening the prisoner further, his gruff tone seemed to put Switchshade somewhat at ease, the ‘Con sliding out of his defensive stance to stand more naturally. He even offered the old medic a very small, hesitant smile of gratitude before quickly draining the cube as commanded. Ratchet nodded, once, and then prepared to leave the cell once more. “My scans revealed that the damage you sustained has been healing well. So long as you stay properly fueled and get plenty of recharge, you’ll be back to full health in no time.”

            He keyed open the door and stepped out, and then glanced behind him at the now much more relaxed if somewhat bewildered young mech, and sighed. “Just-try to take it easy, kid. We really aren’t going to harm you.”

            The medic left then, closing the door behind him and making his way back down the hall. Switchshade listened to his retreating pedesteps, and then sat back against the wall, awe and bewilderment nearly radiating off of him. _I might even begin to believe that._

***

            Switchshade had fallen into a light recharge, but was startled awake by a light clattering noise. He reset his optics, rising to his pedes and peeking curiously out of his cell to see what might have made the noise. The clattering paused then started again, coming a bit closer, and then pausing once more. The ‘Con’s audials heard Ratchet in the main room, muttering quietly to himself, before the clattering suddenly shifted directions and headed straight for the medic. Switchshade strained up on his pedes, trying to see, and was startled when he heard Ratchet exclaim, “By the Allspark!”

            “Ratchet! What is it?” Switchshade cried, straining against the bars of his cell as he struggled to see, though the steel held firm. Another exclamation was heard from the medic, as well as a strange hissing sound from whatever had made the clattering sound. The sounds of a fight soon sounded from the main room, and amidst cries of rage and whirring mechanics, Switchshade shoved against the door of his cell, trying desperately to get to the medic without thought. “Ratchet! Ratchet, are you alright?!”

            The familiar sound of the Prime’s powerful blaster suddenly sounded, ending all other noises, and the eerie silence that fell over the base made Switchshade instantly abandon his efforts of getting out, just then realizing that it might be taken as an attempt to escape. A final crash was heard moments later, and then Ratchet’s gruff voice came, snarling at whatever he had fought, “And _stay_ broken!”

            Switchshade heaved an exvent in relief, leaning against one of the side walls of his cell as he strained to hear, picking up the conversation between Lord Prime and Ratchet.

            “Now what could have caused _that_?”

            “I have a grave suspicion, Ratchet. Dark energon.”

            There was another moment of silence as the gravity of the statement sunk in, and then pedesteps much louder and more powerful than those of the medic began to approach Switchshade’s cell, and he was overcome by a wash of terror once more.

            The door to his cell was keyed open, and the dark mech forced his plating flat against his frame to keep it from rattling any further. Optimus Prime stood in the doorway, but he did not immediately enter the cell. Switchshade quickly bowed low, keeping his helm angled towards the ground as he stood again, and quietly acknowledged, “Lord Prime.”

            Instead of entering then, the Autobot’s leader remained outside the cell, and commanded gravely, “Come, Switchshade. I must ask you to tell me in detail what you and Cliffjumper saw as you were leaving the caverns. As Cliffjumper is currently out of the base, you are the only one here who has seen what Megatron has already done with the dark energon at his disposal. We need to know the full extent of what it can do-of what Megatron plans to do with it.”

            He then stepped to the side and gestured for Switchshade to accompany him out to the main area. The dark mech considered asking if the Prime was certain he wanted his prisoner out of the cell, and then he recalled Megatron’s usual response to being questioned in _anything_ and quickly dropped his optics to the floor again, hurrying to obey.

            Switchshade followed the Prime out to the large central room, and ducked his head in respect to Ratchet as they entered. Optimus made his way to a containment tube that held the remains of what had clearly once been equipment of some sort. He listened with morbid fascination as Ratchet briefly explained what had happened, and Switchshade realized that Cliffjumper must have somehow been contaminated when they had watched Megatron slay and then reanimate the drone.

            “If the effects of dark energon are enough that the smallest contamination is enough to bring broken equipment to life, I fear to think what else it can do. Cliffjumper spoke of a drone whose spark Megatron ripped out, yet who came back to life when he placed a shard of dark energon into his chassis.” Optimus explained. “It was a brief report, as Cliffjumper was still wounded. Now, I ask you to tell me in detail what you saw, and why it is that traces of dark energon have been found here.”

Switchshade glanced hesitantly at the Prime, avoiding optic contact, and then quietly spoke. “I-If I may, Lord Prime, Cliffjumper and I were indeed very close to Lord Megatron when he tested the effects of Unicron’s blood. It is possible that our proximity enabled Cliffjumper to become contaminated, as the smallest shard or drop would be enough. As the equipment was broken, it offered the opportunity for the dark energon to revitalize it, albeit in a twisted fashion, and was hence the cause of the reanimation. It is possible that it did not have any adverse affects on Cliffjumper as his spark is still beating clean energon through his lines, and the amount of dark energon was small enough that it was overpowered, at least in the short term.” Switchshade suddenly realized how animated and focused he had become as he explained his suspicions, and cast a wary glance at the Prime. “… My lord.” He finished rather lamely.

Optimus and Ratchet shared a glance, and then the Prime nodded, once, in clear approval, causing Switchshade’s rapidly accelerating spark to calm slightly. “Where did the ‘Cons find dark energon?” Ratchet asked then, crossing his arms as he left the question open to the room. “It was brought back, by Megatron.” Switchshade offered quietly, when Optimus nodded encouragingly for him to speak. “For what purpose?” Ratchet asked, and Switchshade found himself relaxing yet further, the simple if somewhat dark conversation between mechs very similar to how he had often interacted in meetings on the Nemesis calming him in its familiarity. Soundwave, at least, had always valued his input, even when it had been incorrect, and to be shown the same courtesy here, among enemies and captors, meant more to the black mech than he could say.

Optimus answered Ratchet’s query then, “To conquer this planet, by raising an army of the undead.” Switchshade cycled his optics, and then glanced at the medic in surprise when his response was to c _huckle_. “Well. Megatron will need to break quite a few toaster ovens. I mean, where on this world would he find that many Cybertronian dead?”

The Prime was saved from answering at a squeal of tires, and Switchshade moved behind Ratchet in the span of a millisecond, his defensive position allowing him to guard the medic’s back as well as keep optics on the approaching threat. It took him a moment to realize the ‘threat’ was the yellow Autobot scout, and the Wrecker, both in their alt-modes, returning with their humans. Shortly after, the blue femme and Cliffjumper pulled in as well, all four transforming back into their root modes. The presence of so many Autobots unsettled Switchshade, and he quietly moved so that he was even farther behind Ratchet, unconsciously hiding behind the medic as the sound of whooping and laughter came from the newly returned ‘Bots and humans.

“That was awesome!” the eldest human declared, as it moved a few steps away from Arcee and shared a bright grin with Cliffjumper. “Can we go again?” the youngest and smallest of the humans asked, looking up at the scout with something like awe in his clever optics. _Eyes_ , he reminded himself. _Humans’ optics are called ‘eyes’._ “Sweet!” Miko agreed, jumping a few times excitedly as she stayed beside Bulkhead’s pedes. The Wrecker groaned in mild discomfort, causing Switchshade to peek out from behind Ratchet’s shoulder plating curiously in time to see the green mech reach into a compartment on his chassis and pull out a small, oddly shaped item. Miko grinned sheepishly, reaching to take whatever it was from Bulkhead’s servo as she said, “Sorry! Must have left that in the backseat.”

Optimus moved to stand before his troops, the movement from the Prime enough to make Switchshade move back behind Ratchet again, and the Prime’s powerful, commanding voice began, “Autobots, prepare to…” before he trailed off, looking at the humans. “Roll out?” Cliffjumper and Arcee said in unison, sharing a grin before looking back at Optimus. “-Remain here.” He amended. “Ratchet, you’ll come with me.”

The medic nodded, but as he moved forward, Switchshade tried to take a step back, towards his cell, and Ratchet turned and caught his arm. The younger mech attempted to refrain from flinching with limited success, but there was no pain from the medic’s servo on his arm plating. The medic said nothing, but shifted his grip to Switchshade’s shoulder plating, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze before releasing him.

Meanwhile, the Prime had continued to issue orders. “Arcee, we’ll be outside of communications range for some time, so I’m putting you in charge.” Miko spoke to Bulkhead briefly as the mechs and femme prepared to obey their leader, and Arcee protested remaining behind, but Switchshade had tuned them out, his shocked, wide red optics following the medic as he moved to the Prime’s side. A dark, clawed servo moved to brush over the shoulder plating where the medic had touched him, tracing over the armor in shock. He recycled his optics several times as he watched them prepare to move to the groundbridge. There had been no pain, no harm in the action. Why then had the medic touched him? He hadn’t been hurt, so there was nothing to heal, and he had not been caused pain in punishment for anything. _Why did he touch me?_


	7. Meeting Fowler

 

            The sound of the groundbridge activating shook Switchshade from his confusion long enough to register Ratchet and Lord Prime departing. As the medic vanished from sight, Switchshade found himself taking an aborted half-step forward after him. _Don’t go…_

            “Switchshade.” The femme’s voice startled him, though he made no outward sign, simply turning to face her as the groundbridge began to close behind the Prime. “Yes?” he queried softly, lowering his optics, expecting a command to return to his cell. “You will remain with Bulkhead. You will cooperate with anything he asks of you, within reason, and if you fail to comply you will be returned to your holding cell.”

Arcee’s tone was sharp, her anger at being left behind clearly still rankling, though her field did not teek of imminent rage, so Switchshade simply shifted his weight back and nodded quickly, until her words registered, and his dark red optics flew up to meet hers in surprise. “I- You would leave me unbound and free in this place?” he asked incredulously. She narrowed her icy blue optics. “You gonna give me a reason not to?”

            He took a careful step backwards, lifting his servos half-defensively, and shook his helm swiftly. “No, I just…” She sighed softly, visibly calming when Cliffjumper placed a gentle servo on her shoulder plating. “Look. Optimus let you out, so he must trust you, at least as far as a ‘Con can be trusted.” Cliffjumper grinned at Arcee’s resigned tone, and then jumped in, “Also, you did kind of save my tailpipe from ol’ Screamer, so that wins you some brownie points too.” The cocky red mech smirked at Switchshade’s obvious confusion, but then gentled his voice as well. “If Optimus let you out, then we won’t lock you back up unless we need a reason too. Bulkhead is capable of subduing you if need be, but we can hope that won’t be necessary.”

            Switchshade nodded hesitantly, still wondering if this was some sort of cruel joke, before getting distracted by the eldest of the humans again, as it asked of Arcee, “Okay, chief. So, uh, what’s on the activities list?” The ex-‘Con noticed that while Miko had shown virtually no fear of him, and the clever-eyed young male human had merely shown indifference to his presence, the eldest appeared to be keeping as much distance between himself and the black mech as possible. In deference to the human’s discomfort, Switchshade moved a few paces further from the humans, closer to the yellow scout, who softly whirred a reassurance as the prisoner cast him a questioning glance.

            Meanwhile, Arcee glanced once at her pet human and her faceplates twisted in anger once more, as she declared, “I’m going on patrol.” She turned and began to stalk towards the exit of the base, and as she passed Bulkhead, he tilted his helm and protested, “But Optimus told us to stay!”

            “When you’re in charge, you can call the shots.” Switchshade tensed at the anger in her tone, preparing to watch the femme unleash her wrath upon the Wrecker for daring to question her decision, only to stare in shock as no such attack was forthcoming. Arcee simply turned again and continued on her way to the exit.

            “Cliff, ‘Bee, with me.” she commanded, gesturing slightly for the two mechs to follow. Bumblebee whirred quietly in disappointment, but obeyed, and Cliffjumper just grinned and shrugged as he moved to follow.

            As the three Autobots moved to stand before the exit together, the femme turned to the Wrecker once more. _Now, here it comes. Now, she will put him in his place for daring to question a superior…_

            “Bulkhead, you’re in charge.” Arcee lifted a servo to his arm, patting it lightly, and doing _no damage_ before she transformed and moved out, Bumblebee and Cliffjumper right on her thrusters.

            Switchshade marveled. Perhaps Arcee thought that Bulkhead would not submit to a reprimand? Even Soundwave was not above putting others back into place when they dared to step out of line, though the occasion was extremely rare, and Switchshade had only witnessed such an action from his guardian when the offense of the one being beaten down had been against Lord Megatron. But perhaps the femme knew that, because of the Wrecker’s large size, that she would need to damage him rather badly to make the lesson stick, and the Autobots could not afford to have a mech down in such dangerous times? In truth, he did not know what to think.

            Bulkhead turned back from watching them depart to see three humans and one mech staring at him curiously. “So, uh, what’s on the activities list?” he parroted, lifting his servos in an open gesture. A feedback loop startled both the Wrecker and the prisoner, and both flinched as their auditory receptors were assaulted by the high pitched whine. Switchshade looked to the humans to see Miko fiddling with a piece of human tech that, if he recalled correctly, would project the sounds of certain human instruments. She had plugged in the contraption that she had left in Bulkhead’s chassis earlier, and looked quite ecstatic as she grinned up at her guardian mech. “How about band practice?!”

            The youngest of the humans looked up at her skeptically, “But… we’re not a band.” Far from deterring Miko, she just rolled her eyes and began to circle the younger human. “Why so antisocial? C’mon Raf! You play anything?” He looked at her, askance, as he straightened his visor, before hesitantly lifting another piece of human technology similar to the much-larger-scaled computers aboard the Nemesis. “Um… keyboard?” he offered. As the humans continued to discuss their ‘band’ roles, Switchshade glanced around the main room of the base. It was large, even by Cybertronian standards, and had the room to house many mechs if needed. He wondered how the Autobots had come by it, and if the humans were somehow involved.

            The dark mech was drawn from his thoughts once more when he felt the Wrecker’s gaze on him, and he turned to face him without meeting his optics, tilting his helm questioningly. “Bulkhead!” Miko’s cry startled the mech in question, causing him to turn back to his human again, as she pointed to him enthusiastically and declared, “Percussion. We’ll go for big, industrial sound.” Switchshade was mildly amused to see the intimidating Wrecker, Breakdown’s favorite foe, nodding meekly in agreement to the tiny colorful human’s demands. His amusement quickly faded, however, when said tiny colorful human suddenly darted over to stand nearly on his pedes and peered up at him curiously. “What can you do?” she mused, but most of Switchshade’s attention had been drawn to Bulkhead, who had tensed at Miko’s proximity to the ex-‘Con.

            Switchshade tensed as well, careful to move very slowly and telegraph all of his movements, wondering if the larger mech would attempt to attack him again. Bulkhead’s field did not teek of rage or ill intent, however, merely caution and a mild curiosity. The green mech clearly noticed Switchshade’s discomfort/borderline fear, and eased back a pace, lowering his servos slightly.

            “I know! You can-” Switchshade took a very slow, careful step back, and then knelt beside the human and then bent forward and lowered his helm so as to be on optic level with her. “Forgive me, young one, but I fear I am unskilled in music such as this.” His slightly rough, low voice was enough to give her momentary pause, but when she looked like she would protest, he carefully lifted a clawed servo in request for silence, keeping half an optic on Bulkhead, though the Wrecker was no longer looming, only watching carefully. “I would, however, be most gratified to hear your own abilities and talent. Would you perform a song for me?” he continued, his request causing another large grin on Miko’s face as she nodded enthusiastically and darted back over to the other two humans.

 “You bet! Ready guys?” At the three identical skeptical looks she received from her guardian and the other humans, she waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve just gotta learn the songs. This one’s a ballad! It’s called, “My Fist, Your Face!” With that, she began to ‘play’, although as Switchshade watched, he wondered that this was considered ‘music’ at all. He struggled to keep a small smile of appreciation on his faceplates, and forced himself not to lift his servos to block out some of the assault on his audials.

Bulkhead, for his part, lost the battle much sooner, his servos immediately lifting to shield his audials, and the humans followed suit. Mere kliks into the ‘song’, however, a warning light appeared on one of the main screens of the base, and Switchshade tensed even as he silently thanked Primus for small mercies.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Bulkhead commanded, noticing the alarm mere seconds after Switchshade. Miko began to complain, but quieted quickly when Bulkhead gestured to the screen behind her. “Proximity sensor! Quick, hide!” The humans instantly ran to stand behind Bulkhead’s pedes, and Switchshade looked to the Wrecker in raw panic, wondering if Soundwave had decided to come for him after all.

Bulkhead did not appear to be preparing for a fight, however, although when he glanced to Switchshade, the same panic coursing through the black mech’s lines showed clearly on Bulkhead’s face. “Get-” the command was cut off as a human-sized door at optic-level with the Wrecker suddenly opened, and an adult human stepped through, his stern gaze speaking of great experience though the paunch around his middle gave testament to softer times in recent years.

“Prime!” the human snarled, sounding absolutely enraged, and Switchshade narrowed his optics in anger at the obvious disrespect to Lord Optimus. Even if he was not here to hear it, this human did not know that, and should address the Lord Prime with more respect.

The human’s tone did not seem out of the ordinary to Bulkhead, however, as he simply said, in some surprise, “Agent Fowler. Uh… he’s not here. Nobody’s here.” The green mech chuckled nervously. “ ‘cept me, of course.” The human’s sharp gaze glanced over Bulkhead once and then dismissed him before turning on Switchshade, who bristled slightly at the human, his plating flaring defensively.

“Nobody, huh? Then who’s this? The tooth fairy?” The large, black mech with razor-sharp claws and glowing red optics tilted his helm in confusion at the comparison. “Oh… Uh… this is… um…” Bulkhead was floundering.

Switchshade stepped up to his side, covering smoothly, “My designation is Switchshade. I am here by order of _Lord_ Optimus Prime, and I would ask your business here, Agent.” He placed an emphasis on the honorific, still irritated with the blatant disrespect to the Lord Prime, but kept his low voice as courteous as he could, despite the bite to his words.

The human narrowed his own eyes, and snarled, “I thought only the ‘Cons had them red eyes. You trying for a fashion statement?” Switchshade did not deign to reply, gazing steadily into the human’s eyes as he waited for an answer to his question. A tense moment passed, and then the human glanced away for the barest second before turning back to Bulkhead. A hollow victory, perhaps, but Switchshade still felt a rush of something like pride flow through him before he settled and turned to see what the human would say.

“If Prime’s not here, then where did he go? No, wait, don’t tell me. He’s out pancaking a mini-mall.” Switchshade’s engine rumbled, very, very quietly. The human didn’t notice.

“Now, I don’t know what language you ‘Bots speak on your planet, but Prime promised he would handle the Decepticons! And blowing a crater in the middle of Nebraska is _not_ what the word _handling_ means in English. So, you tell Prime-” As the human lifted a finger threateningly, towards Bulkhead, Switchshade was instantly standing directly before him, dark red optics nearly sparking in his anger as he glared darkly at the human. “ _Agent_ Fowler.” He purred. “I suggest you address the Lord Prime more respectfully, in his absence or not, if you wish for your interactions with the Cybertronians here on earth to remain… unhindered.” His voice was soft, low, almost gentle, but the tone had even the hardened human taking several steps back before he caught himself.

“ _You_ don’t speak for the Autobots, and-” The black mech impossibly, moved even closer, silencing the stubborn human once more. “No, I don’t. But believe me, Agent; _things will not go well for you if you continue to address Lord Prime in such a manner._ ”

A huge green servo landed on his shoulder plating roughly, pulling him forcibly back away from the human several paces. Although no damage was done, and there was no pain, the roughness of the action startled Switchshade into realizing what he had just done. He froze for a nano-klik in sheer horror before bolting down the hall to his cell before Bulkhead could move an inch, closing the door behind him and stumbling over to the far wall to collapse into a defensive ball. _I have gone **so** far beyond overstepping my bounds. **What** was that?! How can I ever hope to gain their trust now, if I cannot even remain civil around their favored humans?!_

There, curled up defensively on the floor of his cell, the black mech wept at his own foolish actions that had destroyed any chance of a life with the Autobots.


	8. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I'm really grateful for all of the wonderful comments! It is due entirely to them that I've had the initiative to write a chapter a day so far, and I'm actually shocked with myself that I've managed it. Hope you're all enjoying, and as always I'm a sucker for feedback. Tell me what you think!

 

            Silence reigned for almost a full minute after the black mech more or less vanished from sight in about a second. Bulkhead watched in alarm as he fled, red optics wide and sightless in his blind terror, and decided almost immediately to deal with Fowler before trying to track down Switchshade and talk to him.

            “So… uh… Optimus isn’t here, and-” the government agent held up a hand to stop him, looking mildly disturbed at the reaction the dark mech had had to being touched. “What’s really going on here, and don’t try to lie to me. Whoever that is, he ain’t one of you, and he’s been through something that made him more than twitchy being touched by people he doesn’t trust. Giant sentient robot or not, I know the signs. Talk.”

            Bulkhead visibly pulled himself together. “I can’t tell you much right now. I’ll let Optimus explain when he returns, but for now know that Switchshade isn’t an active threat, and we’ll be working on the ‘trust’ thing.”

            Fowler crossed his arms, scowling, and was clearly about to argue the point when Bulkhead shifted his weight on his pedes a bit, and Miko, still holding her guitar where it was plugged into the amplifier, stumbled. The motion of the cord extending from the wall to the back of Bulkhead’s pede drew the human agent’s attention, and he blinked in mild surprise, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward on the railing to see better. “Since when are you ‘Bots electric?” he asked suspiciously, distracted from the topic of the other mech for the time.

            Bulkhead cycled his optics, glancing down and failing miserably to conceal his nervousness that the humans would be discovered. Jack glanced at Miko, who offered him a sheepish half-grin, before the eldest human sighed, and took a step out from behind Bulkhead, into clear view of Fowler. “Hey! How you doin’?” he asked easily, waving lightly.

            Fowler’s scowl deepened, and he narrowed his eyes, slamming a hand into the railing in frustration. “Contact with civilians! ‘Team Prime’ has really gone off-book this time! Wait, don’t tell me, you’re running a daycare center.”

            Jack began to spin a story about the three of them being interns, but the agent was unimpressed. However, as he descended the stairs to reach the ground level where the humans stood, demanding that they come with him, to be taken into government custody for their protection, Bulkhead’s pede came slamming down between the children and Fowler, for the first time looking rather upset himself. “ _We’re_ protecting them.”

            Fowler glared up at the large green ‘Bot unhappily, but appeared unwilling to fight on the matter, snarling, “Is that so?” but retreating back a few paces. Instead of leaving it at that, however, he picked up a phone that was placed to the side of the stairs, and continued, “Well then maybe you can explain that to my superiors at the Pentagon!” Bulkhead instantly reached past him and crushed the phone’s base, glancing at the human agent with false concern and muttering, “Don’t use that phone, it’s… *crunch* out of order…”

            That finally seemed enough to set Fowler off for good, and his tone reached new levels of frustration as he nearly yelled, “This isn’t over, Bigfoot! Not by a long shot!” He began to stalk up the stairs back towards the exit, and departed with a final glare over his shoulder.

            Bulkhead watched him go, and sighed heavily. He scratched at the back of his helm, watching the humans as they put away the instruments and then gathered near the base’s computer system. A few kliks passed in silence, and then Bulkhead glanced down the hall that Switchshade had sprinted down, debating whether he should follow the smaller mech now or give him a bit more time to calm himself.

He had only taken a couple of steps when alarms began to sound once more, and he quickly swiveled to see an alert on the computer. “It’s an SOS. From Fowler!” he exclaimed in surprise, all thoughts of Switchshade gone. “Uh… um…” he tried to figure out the computer screen, managing to shut down the alarm, and then he turned away towards the hallway again in relief. “Did you trace it?” Raf asked, stopping him again, and he glanced back towards the screen. “Location scan was incomplete. Oh well.” Jack’s eyes widened, and he stepped forward. “ _Oh well_?” he demanded. Bulkhead frowned, lifting his servos for emphasis. “Fowler’s a jerk!”

Miko smirked, but Jack was determined. “Like the guy or not, the Decepticons might have him!” The discussion continued, Bulkhead reluctantly agreed to try to find him when Raf pointed out that he knew their location, but it took some time for Raf to find a way to hack the government’s mainframe and locate Fowler’s tracking chip to determine his location.

As soon as they had the coordinates, Bulkhead immediately activated the groundbridge, already moving through as he muttered, “Uh…Jack! You’re in charge!” and then turning to bolt into the ‘bridge. The humans watched him go, the groundbridge shutting down, and Jack shrugged a bit. “Guess we three have the run of the place.” He glanced around, Raf meeting his eyes, but Miko was nowhere to be seen. “Miko? Miko!” The girl was gone. “Oh scrap, she probably stowed away with Bulkhead.” Jack groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.

“Uh… Jack? It’s… It’s not just us here, remember?” Raf pointed out, moving closer to the older boy as he pointed to the hallway. Jack turned to see what Raf was pointing at and went pale when his dark blue eyes met the glowing red optics of their resident Decepticon. Both humans froze. “What do we do?” Raf asked Jack, beginning to tremble with fear, as he realized that they were entirely at the questionable mercy of a Decepticon.

***

Switchshade remained in his cell for several earth minutes, forcing himself to calm, and trying to convince himself that weeping like an errant sparkling would do no one any good. He managed to regain his composure, swiping away the lubricant that had leaked from his optics, and baring his fangs at his own weakness and foolish behavior. Rising to sit more comfortably, he sat staring at the wall once more, wondering when the Lord Prime would return, if Bulkhead would see to his punishment himself or if he would wait for the others to return to join in. He wondered if he would be offlined, or if they would stick to wounds that Ratchet might later be capable of fixing if the Lord Prime permitted.

When a second alarm went off, his optics widened, and he rose to his pedes once more, making his was over to the cell door, and leaning against it once again as he attempted to see out, only to nearly fall on his face when it swung open easily. He had forgotten, in his panic, that he didn’t have the access codes to unlock _or_ to re-lock the door. Then, Switchshade heard the groundbridge activating, and trembled in anticipation of the pain to come, but then, he heard Bulkhead leaving. As in, leaving the base. Leaving the base, with only three humans in it. Three humans, and _him_. _That can’t be right_...

Curiosity warred with fear, and curiosity ended up winning. The dark mech slowly made his way down the short hallway, hearing the sounds of Bulkhead’s running pedes fade out and then the groundbridge shutting down. _What could possibly have been so dire that he did not first ensure I was secured before leaving?_

He reached the end of the hallway, and peered out cautiously into the main room, but the only Cybertronian in the base was himself. _What._

Switchshade moved a step closer, looking around more carefully, but clearly Lord Prime and Ratchet were still on their mission; Arcee, Cliffjumper and Bumblebee were still ‘patrolling’, and now Bulkhead had taken off to do Primus-knows-what, leaving Switchshade alone at the base with the three humans. _Two humans_ , he noted with some degree of surprise. Miko was nowhere to be seen.

His attention was drawn to the two male humans who remained, and he narrowed his optics in concern when he took a closer look at them. They both appeared unwell. Both were pale, and the smaller one with the clever eyes was shaking. Perhaps they were ill? Humans contracted illnesses quite easily, he recalled. Tilting his helm as he stared at them, they stared right back, and the little one’s trembling grew worse. Scrap. _Let not the humans fall ill or come to harm on my watch, this will only place me in even worse standing with Lord Prime. Scrap. Scrap. Frag. What do I do?_


	9. Foolish

Switchshade stared at the humans. The humans stared back. The little one trembled. Kliks passed, and there was no movement save for the rapid, shallow breaths of the humans. _Focus_ , Switchshade chided himself, finally moving forward, only to check himself in confusion when the smaller human stumbled to hide behind the larger, who held up his hands defensively.

            “Easy there, big guy. Just… the ‘Bots will be back soon. Don’t do anything foolish, yeah?” the elder human was clearly trying to put up a strong front, but his voice was shaking slightly. Switchshade moved forward again, and they stumbled back yet further. Narrowing his optics in genuine concern, the black mech decided that they were ill and perhaps not entirely in their right minds. _Although after Miko’s… ‘music’, earlier, I can hardly blame them…_

            Not wanting them to accidentally harm themselves, the dark mech paused for a moment, waiting until they relaxed just slightly, and then pounced, landing right beside the two humans, who _squeaked_. Switchshade quickly but extremely carefully caught them, one in each servo, and lifted them to optic level. He was gentle, but when they squirmed, trying to escape, he did not allow them to fall.

            The elder was babbling now, all but incoherent, and Switchshade could only understand one out of every three words that fell from his lips. The younger had frozen, those clever eyes locked on his and nearly glassy. “Easy, young ones. Please, be calm.” He pleaded with them, wishing he knew more of human physiology, of how to help them. At one point, he recalled reading something off of earth’s internet (before he learned that to venture nearly anywhere on the ‘world wide web’ was asking for trouble) about humans needing to be kept warm when ill. The base was not particularly cold, but perhaps the humans, lacking proper armor as they were, were chilled, which had led to this illness.

            He carefully lifted the two humans to cradle them gently against his chassis, directly over the heat emanating from his spark, and allowed a low and soothing hum to rumble through his chassis. “Calm yourselves, please. I mean you no harm, but if you come to any damage while I am here unsupervised, I will be put to blame. Please, try to calm yourselves.”

            The elder had fallen silent, his eyes suspicious, but the younger seemed to rouse himself at the ex-‘Con’s words. “You mean… you aren’t going to kill us? Or… Or take us back to Megatron?”

            “What?” Switchshade took a step back to steady himself, lifting the little one up so that he could meet his eyes. “Why _by the Allspark_ would I want to do that?” Now it was the human who looked confused. “Because… You’re a… I mean, you were a… Well…” Switchshade cycled his optics, and then he understood, and his spark stuttered. “Oh.”

            He knelt, and gently lowered the humans to the ground. Both looked much better than they had, and the little one had stopped shaking, but Switchshade was looking at them both with something like pain in his spark. “You aren’t ill, are you?” Both humans silently shook their heads, looking slightly upset. “I... I did not mean to frighten you, I just thought…” He backed away from them swiftly, angered and ashamed at himself for needlessly terrorizing the humans. “I will leave you be. Forgive me.”

            He turned, intending to leave the main area and return to his cell until the Autobots returned and realized he had been left unbound and alone, but he was forced to stop before he could take another step when the youngest human suddenly darted in front of his pede. “Stop!” Switchshade caught his balance easily, glancing down at the human in confusion, and tilted his helm. “What is it, young one?” Rafael shook his head quickly. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have been so quick to judge you. Even if you were a Decepticon, you still save Cliffjumper’s life, and haven’t made any indication that you are a danger to any of us. We-”

Switchshade shook his helm quickly, cutting him off and kneeling to be able to look the human in the eye seriously as he said, “No. You were _right_ to fear me as you did. It showed wisdom, beyond your years, and spoke of experience in things I wish you had not already seen, so young yet in your life. Still, to lack instant trust of strangers is no fault in you, especially when one such as I has been an enemy to your people for as long as we have been on this earth. Lord Megatron cares nothing for humans, and the Decepticons have followed his example. We avoid the public eye, so that your governments do not actively rise up against us, thereby greatly hindering our efforts, but the lives of individual humans mean less than nothing to him. I have followed and served him with my si- with Soundwave, for nearly all of my functioning, and it is but a testament to your good judgment that you wisely showed distrust of me in this setting.”

Raf nodded in understanding, but still reached forward, hesitantly, to lay a tiny hand on the side of Switchshade’s helm comfortingly. “I get it, I really do, but I’m still sorry. We hurt you-maybe not physically, but I- I could see it in your optics. It’s the same look ‘Bee got when I asked about… well… Anyway, let’s just put it behind us, ok?” The black mech cycled his optics several times in surprise, both at the human’s words, and his gentle touch, and then a small smile curved on his faceplates. “Agreed.” His chassis rumbled softly in contentment as he stood, and the ex-‘Con was helpless to stop the purring at the human’s wisdom and kindness so very beyond his years. Jack meanwhile, was staring at Switchshade like he had never seen him before, but when the mech glanced at him and tilted his helm questioningly, the eldest human nodded quickly, offering a small smile. “Yeah. Same here.” Switchshade offered him a nod as well.

“So… uh, what do we do now?” Jack asked, looking at the mech. Switchshade glanced at him, and then at the groundbridge. “I suppose that would depend upon when the Autobots return, and realize I have been left out of my cell.” Turning to face Jack fully, he asked quietly, “When will Bulkhead return from wherever it is he has gone, and discover that I am… unbound?” Jack shrugged, “Well, he went looking for Fowler, ‘cause he sent out an SOS, and-Miko!” The human’s sudden cry made the mech startle slightly in surprise. “She went with him! She snuck along with Bulkhead!”

Raf’s eyes widened. “What should we do? Bulkhead may not even realize that she followed him!” Jack shook his head, clearly very worried. “Miko hasn’t seen the ‘Cons in action like we have-er… no offense, Switchshade.” The dark mech shook his helm. “None taken. I am under no illusions regarding the dangers of the Decepticons. Please, continue.”

Raf spun around and typed something into the Autobot computer, his tiny human fingers flying over the pad nearly as swiftly as Soundwave’s servos did when he was deep in concentration, and Switchshade found himself surprised and impressed, even as most of his focus shifted to what was clearly the best course of action. “These are the coordinates. Their destination’s still locked in!” The humans turned and looked at Switchshade, who stared back at them with narrowed optics. “This is a horrible idea.”

“Look, we’ll just go in, get Miko, and come right back, ok? No engaging the ‘Cons, no fighting, it’ll be easy.” Switchshade raised an optic-brow. “And what of me? I rescind my earlier statement on your wisdom. Trusting me in the field near to the Decepticons is not only extremely foolhardy, it is also inconceivable. Even if your plan is only to retrieve Miko, I will only be able to protect you for a short amount of time…” Rafael and Jack stood firm, both crossing their arms. “Well, you can come with us and make our chances of survival much higher, or you can stay here. It’s your choice, but we are not staying here and leaving Miko to the mercy of the ‘Cons.” Raf, for being only twelve years of age, could be surprisingly terrifying for a human, Switchshade discovered. His piece said, the boy turned again and typed for another moment, and the groundbridge was activated, opening to the last known coordinates.

The humans made their way to the entrance of the groundbridge quickly, and then turned to look at Switchshade, who was staring at them as if they were not humans at all, but rather some fascinating entirely undiscovered species that he had only just unearthed. “You coming, or…?” Jack demanded, as he prepared to step through. Switchshade shook his helm, but quickly stepped to stand before them, scooping them up and setting them on his shoulder plating, the spikes in the armor hiding them as well as securing them in place. His doorwings rose to shield their backs, and he shook his helm again as he quickly stepped through the groundbridge. “Lord Prime truly is going to kill me.” He murmured softly.

 


	10. In the Nemesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gratitude to everyone who has read, left kudos, and/or commented on this story thus far! Feedback is always appreciated. My internet was down for several days, but it’s back now, so hopefully I’ll be back to a somewhat regular updating schedule again. Enjoy!

 

            Switchshade leapt through the groundbridge, landing lithely on his pedes on the rocky ground where it opened, very carefully not thinking about Bulkhead’s likely reaction to his presence. He lifted his helm, meeting Bulkhead’s shocked blue optics, and distantly heard Miko’s cry of, “Why don’t those guys hang with their own ‘Bots? This is our one-on-one time.” He cycled his optics in confusion, until he realized she was referring to the two humans perched on his shoulder plating.

            “Switchshade! What are you doing here?” Bulkhead demanded harshly, as the black mech quickly made his way to the Wrecker’s side, crouching to find cover as well. “You did not lock me back in my cell, and the humans were most insistent that they would not remain behind.” Switchshade muttered softly, not meeting his optics. “I felt that they would be in danger if they attempted to come alone.”

            The green mech narrowed his optics, but Switchshade quickly continued, “I can of course take the humans and return to the base, if you wish, but I do not know that Lord Prime would approve of me being alone with them and unbound in your base without supervision.” Bulkhead nodded in reluctant agreement. “You’re with me then-getting Fowler back is our number one priority. But, if I get _any_ indication that you’re thinkin’ about returning to the ‘Cons, I won’t hesitate to put a hole in your spark chamber.”

            Switchshade nodded gravely, having expected nothing less, and then followed as the Wrecker began to make his way towards the base. They hadn’t gotten even three pedesteps forward when three sentries challenged them, stepping forward with blasters charged, “You there!” Bulkhead and Miko both exclaimed, “Scrap!”, while Switchshade tensed, wishing that Ratchet had not disabled his own weapons systems when he was taken prisoner.

            The vehicons immediately opened fire on Bulkhead, whose frame had been shielding Switchshade from sight, but as the Autobot dodged the blasts and prepare to return fire, Switchshade quickly stepped forward, holding up his servos in a gesture to cease. Confused, the vehicons paused as they faced their former communications officer. “Desist. The Autobot is with me.” Two of the vehicons looked at each other, and then one stepped forward, blaster still charged and ready, but not yet aimed at the black mech. “Sir… We are under order to destroy all Autobots on sight. And you… we were told you had betrayed us. Commander Starscream gave orders that you were to be taken alive.” Switchshade raised an optic ridge. “Very well then, I will come. But the Autobot comes alive as well. I have orders of my own.” When the vehicon made to protest, Switchshade stepped closer, dark red optics sparking. “If you have objections, you can of course take it up with Soundwave.”

            All three vehicons flinched, and their leader quickly shook his helm. “N-Not at all, Sir. Please, this way.” They turned, and began to lead the way back into the Nemesis, and Switchshade quickly caught Bulkhead’s optics, trying to convey that he could be trusted. Although looking extremely skeptical, the Wrecker did not instantly try to fight, instead tilting his helm slightly as Miko whispered something in his audial, and then lowering his weapon, following right behind Switchshade as they were escorted in the Nemesis.

            Jack and Raf huddled down, hiding in Switchshade’s shoulder plating as best they could, while Miko sat on Bulkhead’s servo, looking around with wide eyes. As the group moved through the halls of the Nemesis, Switchshade prayed they would not encounter any officers. At several different points, groups of two or three vehicons came across them, but they did not attempt to interfere, merely watching in surprise as the odd group continued to move through the halls. “Commander Starscream is currently… _speaking with_ a human in the brig. We will bring you to him.” The vehicon in the lead explained, to which Switchshade merely nodded.

            They continued to move down the halls, until a commotion ahead gave them pause. “Wait here!” one of the vehicons commanded, before realizing what he had said, and turned back briefly to apologetically add, “Sir.” The three vehicons sprinted forwards to investigate, and while they were moving, Switchshade turned to Bulkhead, and gestured at the open backs of the Decepticon soldiers, averting his optics from the gore when the Wrecker took the opportunity and opened fire, quickly destroying all three. Bulkhead turned to face him with narrowed, angry optics, and snarled, “You’re lucky Miko trusts you, or you’d be deactivated by now! What the Pit were you thinking? What did I just say about not giving me a reason to think that you were going to re-join the ‘Cons?!” Switchshade flinched back, his servos lifting defensively, dropping his gaze and lowering his helm in an attempt to appease the angry Autobot.

            “I had little other choice, unless you wished to fight it out where the humans might be endangered. It got us in…” Bulkhead growled, but eased back, muttering, “This isn’t over. We’ll have a _talk_ later.” Switchshade felt his spark stutter, but he simply nodded, and moved to flank the Wrecker as they moved to investigate what had made the noises that had caught the attention of the vehicons. Before they could reach the corner, Cliffjumper peeked around, his bright blue optics sparking in amusement, and he grinned widely when he caught sight of Bulkhead. “Fancy meeting you here!” he exclaimed cheerfully, kicking over a recently-deactivated vehicon out of his way before stepping forward, Arcee and Bumblebee moving to his side as he stepped into view.

            “ _What_ is _he_ doing here?” the femme demanded, blasters charging again, and her cold blue optics narrowed as she glared at Switchshade. Then, she caught sight of Jack peering out from one of Switchshade’s shoulderplates, and her optics widened in shock and further rage. “ _Bulkhead._ ” Her deadly tone froze the energon in Switchshade’s lines. “Forgive me, but there will be time for blame and all due repercussions to the multiple poor decisions that were made today, but for now, I implore you, we must hurry if we are to rescue Agent Fowler.” The black mech pleaded with Arcee, knowing that the penalties for all that had occurred would most likely fall on his helm, but he was willing to bear it if they could all safely return to the Autobots’ base.

            _At least, perhaps, Ratchet might be willing to heal at least a fraction of the damages caused… I could… he might… if…_ his optics flashed nearly white in terror as an image of the Prime from a battle far in the past, when the mighty Autobot Ironhide had fallen in battle to Thundercracker and Skywarp’s combined efforts came to his processor-the blank mask of merciless rage that had covered the Prime’s faceplates when his right-servo mech fell. The unforgiving, unstoppable force that had decimated what remained of the battlefield that dark day, when Prime showed all Cybertronians what, exactly, he was capable of if those under his protection were harmed. _What fate befell the seekers could be mine, if any of the Autobots do not return from this mission…_

“Um… Switchshade?” Raf’s quiet voice was nearly drowned out by Arcee’s angry berating of Bulkhead as Cliffjumper tried to play peacemaker and Bumblebee kept a watch on all the hallways around them. Blinking, the black mech realized he had been trembling hard enough to nearly throw off the humans still perched on his shoulder plating, and he quickly lowered them to the ground. “Are you… Are you going to be alright?” Raf asked quietly, looking into the ex-Con’s optics with no little concern. “I-I will be well, young one. Go now to your guardian.” The human glanced at him once more, but obeyed, Bumblebee quickly scooping him and up cradling him protectively against his chassis.

            “Alright, look!” Cliffjumper finally cut into the rapidly escalating argument between Arcee and Bulkhead. “ ‘Shade’s right. We really need to be moving if we’re gonna save Fowler-you two can hash this out back at base. Let’s move!”

            “Move where? We still don’t know where they’re holding Fowler.” Arcee’s vocalizer was angry, but not openly challenging, her processor clearly switching from argumentative to let’s-get-this-over-and-done-with-right-fragging-now. Jack, who had moved to her side, and was sticking close to her pedes, quickly glanced at Raf, and the two humans declared in unison, “He’s in the brig!”

 


	11. A Debt Repaid

They moved quickly through the Nemesis, all other vehicons they encountered were quickly dispatched by the four powerful Autobot warriors, Switchshade doing what he could to shield the humans, as his weapons systems were still down. As they moved down the halls, taking down enemies as they went, one lucky shot came far too close to the humans for comfort, and Switchshade stumbled a bit as he was thrown off balance. He could feel no pain, however, and so shrugged it off, continuing to follow the Autobots as they hurried towards the brig.

            At a point nearly to their location, Arcee suddenly paused, and then knocked several times on one of the doors on the side of the hall, and when the vehicons within opened it, she instantly shot them down with her blasters, taking down two in less than a klik. “All clear. Wait here.” She commanded the humans. Bumblebee protested, but the femme would not yield, stating that the humans were slowing them down, but would be safer in that room. Switchshade glanced at them, then looked to the femme, his optics questioning, but she instantly shook her helm. “I’m not taking my optics off of you. You’re still coming with us. Let’s move!” she demanded again, sprinting down the hallways once more, leaving the humans in questionable ‘safety’ behind.

Soon, they had reached the brig, and the guards there posted were taken down nearly instantly as well. Arcee moved to the ceiling panels, while Cliffjumper, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Switchshade went through the main door. Bulkhead took out the final sentry, and then knocked on the door, holding the lifeless frame before him as it opened. “Well?” Starscream’s distinctive voice shook Switchshade to the spark, and he froze on his pedes as Bulkhead let the deactivated vehicon fall and fired on the final remaining guard that had been with the Decepticon SIC. Bulkhead, Cliffjumper, and Bumblebee hurried into the room, blasters trained on Starscream, and only paused when he leveled his own blaster on Fowler’s head. The agent hung from the ceiling in chains, unconscious, and Switchshade shook his helm to clear it, stepping forward even as he heard Starscream addressing the Autobots, “Not so fast.”

Switchshade began to move forward again, trying to speak, trying to figure out what he could possibly say, when a distinct *tap, tap, tap* noise was heard, Arcee glaring down from where she was perched above Starscream, her own blaster pointing at the top of his helm. “I wouldn’t.” The seeker grinned wickedly, his blaster charging even more, as he threatened, “Oh, but _I_ might.” There was a pause, as everyone realized they had reached a stalemate, and then Starscream declared, “Now, Agent Fowler and I will take our leave.”

“Commander.” The seeker froze, his bright red optics instantly seeking out Switchshade, whose trembling voice had addressed him. “ _You_ ” Starscream hissed, venomous rage in his voice. “It _had_ to be you, didn’t it? Could not any other Decepticon have so betrayed me? Why? Why did it have to be _you?_ ” Switchshade cycled his optics in surprised confusion, but moved closer regardless, ignoring the seeker’s threatening posture. “What do you-?”

“You betrayed _me_! After all that you did, every single time you stepped in and- when Megatron- And then, after all that, you _betrayed_ me!” The seeker’s normally scratchy voice was growing even more audial-raking than usual in his agitation. He suddenly ex-vented heavily, his wings dropping to lay low against his back as his shoulder plating dropped slightly. “I suppose you’ll want the human back?” Before any of the Autobots could react, he had cut the chains suspending Fowler to the ceiling, only just catching him before he hit the floor and lowering him safely down.

Switchshade’s vents stalled in shock. “A debt, for a debt.” The seeker would not look at him. “Though it pains me to admit it, I owed you, for your actions in the past. This debt between us is now settled. If I see you again, I will not hesitate to do to you what I should have done today.” With that, Starscream transformed, flying past all of them before any could react, and was gone. Switchshade cycled his optics several times, utterly shocked. He had known the seeker had honor, but to give up so easily, to… _He knew he could not win this fight. He took the only way out that would permit him to retain some dignity, escape unscathed, and be able to justify it to himself as a repayment of his debt. Clever, cunning seekers…_

Silence reigned for a short time, and then Cliffjumper moved, as if in a daze, to collect Fowler, who had regained consciousness, but not coherence, if the odd words he was murmuring were any indication. “What…” Bulkhead was staring after Starscream as if he had never seen him before, and Bumblebee whirred softly in confusion. “What even… I don’t… _What?_ ”

“Come on… Let’s get back to base.” Even Arcee seemed subdued, shocked by the seeker’s exceedingly uncharacteristic actions. Still, she was suspicious, and not willing to trust that they would meet with no further trouble on their way out, and the Autobots quickly regrouped and began to move back to retrieve the three young humans they had left behind. As the group hurried towards the room, they heard weapons fire, and Bulkhead suddenly shot ahead, transforming into his alt-mode and tearing around the corner. He got to the room first, the humans already out and running as a single vehicon followed them, blasters up. Bulkhead charged, transforming mid-leap as he vaulted the humans and collided with the vehicon, instantly destroying it as they landed.

            The rest of their escape went smoothly, Raf and Miko hurrying Fowler into Bumblebee when he transformed, and Jack quickly getting on Arcee. Bulkhead lead the way, and Switchshade and Cliffjumper took the rear, the group of Cybertronians and humans making it out of the Decepticon warship nearly entirely unscathed.

As they drove, kicking up dust, Switchshade tried to blank out his processor, tried to focus on anything but the fact that when they returned to the Autobot base, it would be time for repercussions. The blame for the humans being endangered rested with him, as well as his reckless behavior and disobedience when he and Bulkhead had first encountered the vehicons. Lord Prime would, of course, have first say in his punishment, for he was the leader and highest ranking, and all vengeance was rightfully his first and foremost. When Lord Prime was satisfied, if Switchshade was not deactivated, he would be turned over to Bulkhead, and then Arcee, and then likely Cliffjumper or Bumblebee as well, for it was their humans whom he had endangered.

If, by some miracle of Primus, he had not succumbed to deactivation by then, his broken frame would then be placed at Ratchet’s mercy. While the thought initially made his spark stutter even worse, the more he thought about it, the less terrifying the prospect became. While alarmingly strong, as most medic builds are, Ratchet had been nothing but gentle and careful with Switchshade. His servos had caused the dark mech no pain, no harm, and had only healed and comforted. _Perhaps, I could even beg his mercy. If Prime-no, not Lord Prime. Lord Prime will do as he wishes. But Bulkhead, or Arcee perhaps. If they go too far… if they begin to cause damages that could not be repaired, maybe… maybe I could beg Ratchet to intercede. Maybe… maybe he would stop them, let me heal first, before the penalty continued. Maybe…_

When they finally returned safely to the base, however, all thoughts of punishment and pain fled Switchshade’s processor, as Lord Prime and Ratchet were there to meet them, and the news they bore took precedent. As Lord Prime explained to the Autobots what had happened, and how he and Ratchet had fought a veritable army of undead Cybertronian warriors, Cliffjumper helped to settle Fowler in a human-sized gurney to rest. Switchshade, for his part, edged slowly along the wall towards the hall that led to his cell, wanting nothing more to delay the inevitable pain, until he realized that _Ratchet_ was _hurt_. No. No. Ratchet-Ratchet could not be hurt. He was a medic, he was strong, he was- he was the Hatchet. He… Without realizing what he was doing, Switchshade immediately changed direction, until he was nearly hovering beside the medic as Optimus welded together a brace on Ratchet’s left arm from shoulder plating to servo. Even his proximity to the Prime was not enough to dissuade Switchshade as his dark red optics gazed in horror at the damage to the medic.

Without conscious thought or decision, Switchshade curled into the medic, clawed servos gently grasping the sturdy shoulder plating as the dark mech rumbled softly. Thoughts of times past came to him, of the rare occasions when Laserbeak was injured, when the tiny femme would submit to his cuddling with a good-natured grumbling but genuine affection and happiness in her field. Optimus had finished his repairs, and turned his full attention to the mechs and femme before him, and Switchshade stumbled back a step in shock when the medic embraced him carefully in return.

“You worried about me, kid?” his gruff voice sounded almost… touched, and when he pulled back, the old medic was grinning a bit. “Don’t be. I’ve had much worse in my time, and Optimus had my back. But it sounds like you’ve got quite the story to tell, yourself, when all is said and done.”

Switchshade moved back, his spark calming for the first time since he had agreed to come with the humans to find Miko, and offered a reluctant nod at Ratchet’s last comment. He forced himself to keep from cowering back and trying to hide when Arcee began to tell Lord Prime what had occurred while he was gone. Oddly, Ratchet’s calming field felt almost identical to how Soundwave’s had at times, when Switchshade or Laserbeak had been gravely wounded or mortally terrified. The paternal, soothing sensation of safe/protected/calm being subtly projected was enough to settle the dark mech slightly, although he found some small amusement in just how similar Ratchet’s field was to how Soundwave’s could be. He wondered what the gruff old medic’s reaction would be upon being informed of this fact, and forced his faceplates to remain blank to keep a grin form working its way across his face at the thought.

Optimus Prime addressed Bulkhead as soon as Arcee finished her report, reprimanding him, “Bulkhead, you exercised extremely poor judgment when you allowed the humans to accompany you. Additionally, you left Switchshade alone and free in the base with them, where untold amounts of damage could have been wrought.” His grave, deep, rumbling voice was clearly deeply disappointed, but Switchshade could detect none of the expected fury. Then, the Prime turned to face him, and the mech stumbled back a step, trembling, his vision blurring and then going dark at the edges, as Lord Prime began to say, “Switchshade-” All else was lost to the black mech, and his processor shut down. His frame fell lifelessly to the floor, energon leaking from a forgotten blaster wound in his back, right between his doorwings.

 


	12. Two Steps Back

 

            Switchshade flinched back, shredded servos that now lacked claws a poor defense against the merciless assault. Still, he tried to shield his helm, one optic already torn from his faceplates, the energon dripping from above his optic ridges dripping over the single remaining optic and nearly blinding him. Large portions of armor had been torn violently from his frame, one of his pedes was mangled beyond repair, and both doorwings had been torn off as well. Rivulets of energon poured off of him, and still he staggered back, his single remaining red optic flowing with lubricant and energon at the agony coursing through his frame.

            Lord Optimus Prime stood before him, an expression of unspeakable fury on his faceplates, as Arcee and Bulkhead tore Switchshade to pieces together. Ratchet stood by, arms crossed in front of his chassis, a blank look on his faceplates and in his optics, as if he did not even see what was occurring right in front of him. “My lord, _please_!” Switchshade’s damaged vocalizer could barely force the words out, and yet still he tried desperately to beg for mercy, for his offlining to be immediate, rather than to have this torture drawn out.

            The Prime’s cold, ruthless optics met Switchshade’s single remaining one with disgust and apathy. “You don’t deserve the right to beg for mercy. You endangered Miko, Rafael, and Jack, you threatened Agent Fowler, and you are nothing more than a worthless Decepticon. Not even that, any more. Traitor to your own people, how could you think we could ever trust you?” The Prime’s deep, rumbling, angry voice bore no trace of anything resembling mercy, and then, just when the black mech thought that the pain could grow no worse, Arcee and Bulkhead stepped back, and Lord Prime stepped forward.

            “No, please, no, no more, I beg you, please, no, please, no, no, _no_!”

***

            “ _No_!” Switchshade’s optics flew open, his spark racing faster than it had since his capture, utterly frozen in place and venting heavily. A slight ache in his back alerted him to the fact that he had not escaped the Nemesis unscathed, although now that his processor registered the pain, he realized it had already been treated, and expertly so. The monitors on his sparkbeat, as well as his desperate cry, had alerted Ratchet to the fact that his most recent patient was once again in the world of the conscious, and the old medic hurried to Switchshade’s berthside.

            The dark mech’s optics darted around the room, a small part of his processor categorizing it as a medbay of sorts, but when he caught sight of Ratchet, his processor was wiped blank, and within kliks, he was off the medi-berth, on the floor, wedged between the corner of the wall and the side of the berth, servos held over his head as his frame trembled. The ache between his doorwings worsened with the sudden violent motion, but it was well worth it to find a temporary refuge from that terrible, dead expression in the medic’s optics.

            “Switchshade!” Ratchet’s voice was shocked, but there was no trace of the expected rage, nor did his field teek of anything other than surprise and concern. Suddenly, the bulky white and orange mech was kneeling several pedesteps away, concerned blue optics trying to catch terrified red. “Please, no, please, no, no, no, please, please…” Switchshade muttered rapidly, shaking even harder. “Kid, you need to calm down… Kid? Switchshade!”

            The black mech’s optics flew up to catch Ratchet’s involuntarily at the command in his voice, and he stared at him in mindless terror. “You had a bad memory feedback during recharge. Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real. You with me?” Switchshade vented heavily, his optics still locked on Ratchets, and struggled to make sense of what was real, the distorted memories still playing through his processor making it difficult for him to determine what had truly happened, and what had been only in his processor. “Ratchet?”

            The medic nodded, slowly and carefully offering a strong gray servo for the terrified mech to grasp, and sharp black claws clutched onto it as if it were the only thing keeping him functioning just then. “Ratchet...” The mech in question nodded again. “Yeah, kid, I’m here. You think you can try to stand again? We need to get you back on the berth, so I can take a look at that damage to your back again-I’m betting that little dive you took didn’t do your self-repair any favors.”

            As if he had not even heard the medic speak, Switchshade continued, removing his servos from Ratchet’s, and instead grasping his forearm plating desperately, holding his gaze with terrified, sparking red optics. “Ratchet. Please. I-I can’t do that again. I give you my word-I _swear_ I meant no harm to the humans! I would not have harmed F- Agent Fowler. I would never have moved to harm a human under your protection. I meant no harm to Miko, or Rafael, or Jack, please, please I swear. I-I… I know I must bear the punishment for my actions, but _please_ , Ratchet, please do not let them… I can’t… **_Please_** …” He quickly dissolved into incoherency in his terror, and Ratchet could only kneel there, his forearm plating almost denting under the pressure, as the black mech begged.

            “C-Come on, now. Let’s get you back onto the berth.” The medic had seen enough in his long lifetime to drive anymech insane, and he used his formidable experience in messy situations to compartmentalize for now, focusing on the first tangible problem that he could _fix_. Switchshade had gone limp, his entire frame loose and his faceplates and optics blank with terror. The younger mech meekly allowed the medic to lift him from the floor and resettle him back on the medbay berth.

            Ratchet quietly asked him to lean forward so that he could more easily reach the damaged plating on Switchshade’s back, and his patient immediately complied. As his skilled, gentle servos carefully set to work welding the weakened plating back together as it had been before Switchshade’s panicked flight had torn open the first welds, the medic began to speak quietly.

“Switchshade. We are not going to hurt you. Optimus will not see you harmed, nor does he blame you for the presence of the children on that mission. Bulkhead should have been more clear and firm in his instructions, Arcee never should have left the base, Cliffjumper and Bumblebee should have spoken up or remained behind, and the humans should have listened to Bulkhead and remained here. In fact, in all of this Pit-cursed mess, the _only_ mech who showed a scrap of sense was yourself. Are you hearing me, kid? You will not be hurt, or… _punished_.”

            Switchshade cycled his optics several times, the medic’s gruff voice oddly soothing as he kept up a steady monologue of reassurance and comfort as his gentle servos removed the pain from his back. He couldn’t find the words to reply, however, and when Ratchet finished, sitting back to look his patient in the optic, Switchshade dropped his gaze. “I-I hear you, sir.”

            “Ratchet.”

            “R-Ratchet.”

            The medic sighed at the clear disbelief of the younger mech, though he could hardly blame him for his blatant distrust. “We’ll work on that.”

            A sudden beeping from a computer monitor sounded, and Ratchet rose to his pedes, glancing back as Switchshade carefully stood as well. “You should be fine to move now, but take it easy, and don’t put any unnecessary strain on those welds until your self-repair can take over and finish the process.” Switchshade nodded, and then quietly followed Ratchet as he hurried back out to the main room, the medic moving to his computer, which had an alert on it that baffled Switchshade. The black mech moved stealthily along the wall until he was wedged into a dark corner, half-hidden in shadows and yet still able to see most of the room pretty well.

            Whatever was on the computer startled Ratchet, and he muttered gravely, “It can’t be…” The medic looked a bit closer at the schematics, and then raised his voice, “Optimus!” When the Prime entered the room, Switchshade cowered back even further into his corner, bowing his helm until his chin plating brushed his chassis, but the Prime was focused on Ratchet. “These are engineering specs for a space-time vortex generator.” Optimus met Ratchet’s optics, and put things together quickly. “Megatron’s building a spacebridge, if he hasn’t already.”

            Bulkhead and Bumblebee suddenly emerged from yet another hallway, and the sight of the green Wrecker and the Prime in such close proximity was enough to start Switchshade’s spark racing again. “The sooner he leaves, the better.” Bulkhead pronounced, in response to the Prime’s statement. However, Optimus did not appear to share the sentiment. “Bulkhead, a spacebridge runs in two directions. Megatron may not be using it to leave earth, but to bring through his conquering army.”

            Understanding dawned in Ratchet’s optics. “The ‘main event’ Megatron referred to?” Suddenly, the clever medic realized where, exactly, the Decepticon Warlord’s spacebridge would go, and his next words were stated in disbelief. “But… the only place Megatron could possibly recruit that many fallen warriors…”

            He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. “Precisely.” Optimus confirmed. “Cybertron.”


	13. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooookkkaayyyy… So. My internet is back. Sort of. It decided to die, again, and then not come back for another week, and now I don't have any clue what's going on with it. But, it let me update this, so-chapter! Hooray! Thanks to all who have stuck with me, I'll try to get on a somewhat regular update schedule again (provided my internet doesn't decide that it wants another break). There should be a couple chapters tonight, so the second one'll be up as soon as I'm done writing it. Enjoy!

There was a pause as this information sunk in to their processors, and then Ratchet's ancient, wise optics narrowed with a renewed determination as he turned back to his screen and began to work at a furious pace, blind to all else in the base. Bulkhead and Bumblebee both stood quietly for once, watching Ratchet work, and Optimus remained still as well, awaiting his CMO's word. Arcee glanced around the room, scowled slightly when she caught sight of Switchshade cowering in the corner, and then turned to leave the base, offering a respectful nod to Optimus as she went. "I'm going to go check on Jack."

"Why? Aren't I good enough for you anymore? Am I being replaced by a human?" Cliffjumper's good-natured teasing was in stark contrast to the solemn mood that had fallen over the other Autobots, but it was enough to chase the scowl from Arcee's faceplates. "Not at all. It's just… I almost lost you, and after Tailgate… I'm just not ready to let anyone else go, yet."

Cliffjumper's optics softened, and he gently wrapped an arm around her shoulderplating. "Alright. Then I'll go with you." She smiled back up at him, before realizing what she was doing and wiping her faceplates clean of any expression, though a slight flush of energon rose to betray her. "Fine. Let's go." Optimus did not object, merely turning to watch calmly as they transformed and took off, his attention quickly returning to Ratchet. Nearly a joor later, the medic suddenly turned and declared, "Optimus, I've pinpointed the location of Megatron's spacebridge-high in earth's orbit."

The Prime's expression was grave. "Out of our reach." Miko leaned against Bulkhead's pede, raising an eyebrow and stating, "Okay, so you guys don't fly. But can't you just groundbridge there?" Ratchet looked down at the human in mild distaste. "A groundbridge has limited range" his servos moved animatedly as he tried to explain. "Stretched all the way into orbit, it's vortex could snap, and scatter us to the stars." Miko's eyes widened in surprise and horror, but she continued to listen closely as the mechs debated what to do.

"Since Megatron is likely already in transit, I'm afraid we must take that risk. Reaching the spacebridge first is our only means of stopping him." The Autobots all turned to look at the groundbridge with no little trepidation, though they were each clearly willing to follow Optimus wherever he might lead them, even unto the gates of the Pit itself. The revving of two powerful engines came into audial range just then, and all present turned to look as Arcee and Cliffjumper came driving in at top speed, screeching to a halt a few pedesteps away from the others. Jack was on Arcee, and when he stepped off, pulling off his helmet, Switchshade realized he must have missed something while unconscious, for Rafael and Miko were both present, but Jack had not been with the 'Bots when they had left, and they all seemed quite happy that he had returned to them.

Optimus offered a slight nod in acknowledgement to the human, before commanding, "Autobots, prepare for departure." Arcee tilted her helm, and Cliffjumper offered a grin to their leader. "Where to, boss-bot?" Miko smirked. "The final frontier." Jack's eyes widened. "Space? I thought they didn't have any way to get there." Bumblebee knelt to lower Raf to the ground at the youngest human's behest, and he answered Jack hesitantly. "They don't… really."

Jack blinked, and then glanced back up at Arcee and, after a moment, Cliffjumper. "Be seeing ya?" he offered with a smile, and the femme shrugged, grinning back, while Cliffjumper offered a careful fist bump. As Ratchet powered on the groundbridge, Rafael bade Bumblebee a fond farewell, while Bulkhead cautioned Miko against attempting to follow him again, but Switchshade's attention was instantly drawn back to Ratchet when he spoke. "Optimus, if you leave me stranded on a planet teeming with humans, I will never forgive you." The dark mech's spark nearly stuttered out. What.  _What._ Without thought, Switchshade stumbled forward a step, reaching out futilely to try to draw the Prime's attention away from the medic who had just spoken so disrespectfully to him. If any,  _any_ mech had  _ever_  spoken in such a fashion to Megatron, they would not have walked away. At all. Lord Prime would not permit… He…

Against all odds, at such insubordination, the Lord Prime smiled. It was small, and nearly lost amid his solemn optics as he prepared for the battle before him, but it had been present for an astroclick nonetheless. "Until we meet again, old friend." His battlemask slid into place with a click, and then the Prime began to move towards the groundbridge, leaving the medic unscathed. "Autobots, roll out!" His deep, commanding voice rang throughout the base, and the three mechs and the femme immediately transformed at his command, following their leader as the lead the way into the portal that would take them into space. As they disappeared, Switchshade heard the Prime command, "Maximum overdrive!" and then they were gone.

Switchshade watched as Ratchet patched into Optimus' comms, and then increased the volume until his voice could be heard clearly in the base as he described what could be seen from the spacebridge. All five warriors had safely reached the spacebridge without the groundbridge's vortex destroying them, but now the Nemesis approached. As Optimus commended Bulkhead on destroying the satellite that would have permitted the Decepticons to aim directly at Cybertron, Switchshade carefully shifted on his pedes, until he was inching along the wall to avoid the medic's attention. Lord Prime and Ratchet spoke back and forth for a time, and Rafael interceded once as well, offering information on an array of satellites in Texas that would be a very likely target for the Decepticons to use to achieve the precision needed for their aim.

Lord Prime appeared pleased with the young human's ingenuity, and commanded Ratchet to alert Agent Fowler and have him get in contact with the array staff of the facility and inform them of the potential security risk. However, the agent was still recovering from being under Starscream's care, and when his name was mentioned, he sat up from his temporary berth, exclaimed, "You, soldier! You're out of uniform! Put on some pants." and then collapse back down. Ratchet scowled, "That may be a challenge."

Switchshade wanted nothing more than to get back to his cell and hide there in peace until this fight was over, but he knew he could not. He wanted to fight, to prove himself, prove he could be trusted, but he knew it would take a great deal of time, if ever, for the Autobots to believe his sincerity. However, when the humans began to scheme of hacking into the satellite system from the base itself so that Rafael could keep the Decepticons out with his own computer skills, the black mech stopped edging his way back towards his cell, and took notice.

Optimus seemed to be against it, stating, "The risk is too great. The Decepticons will be there, perhaps even on site." Privately, Switchshade agreed, but that glint in Rafael's clever eyes told him that the human was more than likely to try anyway. Shockingly, it was Jack who dared to speak up and argue with the Lord Prime. "Optimus, with all due respect, you said it yourself. This is bigger than the safety of three humans." Miko immediately jumped in in agreement. "Yeah, if we let the 'Cons win, then we're fragged, along with everyone else on our planet." There was a brief pause, and then Optimus asked, "Raf?" The youngest human glanced at Jack and Miko, and then his face set into a determined expression. "I want to give it a shot."

On the other end of the comm. line, the Autobot warriors became engaged in battle, and Ratchet turned the connection down, so that it couldn't be heard unless Optimus tried to get in contact with him. Switchshade stepped forward as the medic prepared the groundbridge to send the humans to the satellite base, and forced himself to meet Ratchet's optics. "Ratchet. Please, allow me to accompany them. I… I know I cannot be trusted, I realize that you should not trust me, but I beg you, let me go. I would not see them come to harm, and if you are to stay here and control the groundbridge, then allow me to make myself useful to you and go with them. If nothing else, perhaps I will be able to buy them some time."

Ratchet's clever optics bored into Switchshade's determined if still nervous red ones for a long moment, and then the Hatchet sighed. "Come here." he muttered, grumbling under his breath about Primus knows what. When the younger mech hesitantly complied, the medic's deft fingers opened the plating at the base of his helm, causing the black mech to freeze in surprise and fear, but it was only for a moment, as he suddenly felt his weapons systems and long-range comms come back online.

"I am trusting you in this, Switchshade." Ratchet said, as he stepped back, and met the ex-'Con's eyes again. "You proved yourself in the previous mission, against all odds you chose to be loyal to our cause, and protected the humans. Do so again now." Suddenly, the medic's optics glared, and his field  _flared_  with rage/fury/power/intimidation so strong it was enough to cause Switchshade to flinch violently back, and he dared not meet the medic's eyes again. "But know this. If you betray us, if any harm comes to the humans at your servos or by your doing, I will hold you personally responsible, and  _I will find you myself_. Do you understand me?"

Shaking, Switchshade quickly nodded, stumbling over to the groundbridge and moving to follow the humans as they leapt through, not daring to look back at Ratchet. He was only just beginning to realize why he had been nicknamed 'The Hatchet', and wondered what it would be like to have that raw power and reckless fury directed at him. The black mech shuddered.  _Slag_  what the vehicons might say. Megatron had  _nothing_  on Ratchet in the 'terrifying' department.


	14. Reunion

The humans made it through the groundbridge ahead of the mech, Switchshade keeping a cautious distance behind them as they unsteadily made their way forward. “That’ll take some getting used to.” Jack muttered, lifting a hand to his head as he tried to regain his equilibrium after the disorientation of the groundbridge. Switchshade waited a moment as they recovered, and then he quietly urged them to move forward, the satellite base only a few yards in front of them. As they moved to one of the side doors, Switchshade connected to the security cameras and alarm systems and neutralized them, carefully wedging his way in and manipulating several transformation seams as he managed to get through the human-sized door behind Jack. Once all four were in, Switchshade was reduced to half-crawling, half-dragging himself as quietly as possible through the hallways, until Raf located a room with the tech he needed to thwart the Decepticons’ influence.

            Not even a full klik after the tiny human had sat and begun to type, he suddenly straitened with a victorious smile, and announced, “I’m in!” His grin rapidly fell away, and his eyes narrowed as he continued, “And so are the Decepticons.” He quietly explained to the other two humans how he knew, and Switchshade tried to listen, but the brush of a _very_ familiar if muted field mere meters away suddenly shook Switchshade to his core. _Sire._

            Frozen where he crouched, Switchshade was overcome with so many emotions his processer nearly shorted out. Longing/love/fear/guilt/affection/safety/danger/ _sire_. “Soundwave…” he whispered, causing the humans to look up at him in fear, but his dark red optics were gazing at the wall to their left in conflicted confusion. “What?! Soundwave’s _here_?” Raf hissed, distracted from his work. “Hey, come on, it’s alright. You said it yourself, they won’t know you’re here, in the house. Just do what we came to do. Do it for ‘Bee.” Jack reassured him, and Raf nodded, a  new light of determination in his eyes.

            Switchshade’s once-guardian did not appear to have realized their presence, but the black mech knew it was only a matter of time before he did, and he balked at the thought of what might happen then. He had seen his mentor in action precious few times in the past, but when Soundwave was driven to physical violence, _Lord Megatron_ moved out of the way. It was rumored (and Laserbeak had once confirmed, when she had found a large stash of high-grade and decided somewhere between singing an earth-song titled ‘Peanut-Butter-Jelly Time’ and wobbly-flying into the walls of the Nemesis that telling stories of old was a worthy pastime) that Soundwave and Megatron had once met in battle in the gladiatorial pits of Kaon, and their match had been ruled a _tie_ , a thing unheard of before or since. If Soundwave attacked, Switchshade would die.

            Meanwhile, Rafael was working with a renewed vigor, and he looked closer at the screen and then whispered, “They’re locked onto Cybertron! But not for long.” He rapidly typed in several lines of code, and the satellites immediately responded, turning away from their course. Switchshade found himself more than impressed with the tiny human’s technological prowess, that an organic, and a youngling at that, was capable of matching Soundwave’s hacking abilities.

            Suddenly, an awareness of another consciousness threw Switchshade for a loop, his red optics sparking as he was forcibly thrown from the security systems and cameras. The security camera that was in the corner of the room with the humans suddenly turned and focused on them, beeping once, and Switchshade’s optics widened in terror. The humans were bickering quietly as Raf once again thwarted the satellites from aiming back at Cybertron, but Switchshade immediately began onlining his battle protocols preparing to fight for his life to buy them a few more kliks. The door behind them suddenly creaked open, none of the humans realizing it, and a familiar, black and purple tentacle rose before them. Switchshade turned his back to the humans, shielding them as best he could, as he rose into a crouch, the limited room working against him.

            His guardian’s limb rose threateningly above his helm, and Switchshade saw he opportunity to attack, but he hesitated at the last second, and it was his undoing. Soundwave instantly lashed out, striking Switchshade in the chassis, the force of the blow sending the younger mech flying through the opposite wall to land in a pile of debris. The black mech was back on his pedes in an instant, but Soundwave had already struck at Jack and Miko as well, though not nearly so hard as he had with Switchshade, only enough to stun them. Then, the tentacle went for Raf, forcing him to abandon the fight as he snatched his flash-drive from the computer system and then struggled to evade the deft limb.

            As Switchshade rushed back into the room, he saw Miko jumping at Soundwave’s tentacle with a primitive earth weapon, only to be knocked back against the wall between Jack and Raf. The tentacle immediately picked up the discarded weapon, and Switchshade hurried to throw himself in front of the humans, knowing it would do him much less damage than them, even as Jack exclaimed, “You handed it an axe?!” at Miko. “Not good.” Raf agreed, and Switchshade quickly scooped them up, shielding them against his chassis as he turned his doorwings to the tentacle, expecting to feel a blow against his back. To his shock, however, the tentacle retreated, taking the axe with it, and a sudden ‘thud’ indicated that it had been used to sever… something.

            The humans struggled to get down, and Switchshade gently lowered them back to the ground, only to watch in disbelief as they went running after the tentacle, bursting through the doors in time to see Soundwave perched on the roof, having set the satellites to Cybertron once more and then severing the control lines, the only means Raf had of altering their course again. Miko lifted her phone quickly and snapped a picture, and Soundwave tilted his helm marginally, the screen over his faceplates zooming in on the humans and taking a ‘picture’ as well, before he turned to face Switchshade.


	15. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning for some possible OOC-ness from Soundwave in this chapter. I know he is loyal to a fault to Megatron, and that is unlikely to change, ever, but I have to cite that he is a ‘father’, and even if he feels his loyalties are divided, he’s still a dad. His highest loyalty is to Megatron, but as there was no direct order to him specifically to capture or harm Switchshade, he feels no guilt in ‘bending the rules’ as it were. He’d do the same if Laserbeak were in a similar situation. So, yeah. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

            There was a tense moment of silence, before Switchshade’s racing processor came up with one thought. _Protect the humans._ “Run.” He hissed, pushing the three humans behind him and gesturing for them to flee, which they did with no protest, to his surprise. His guardian stood silent as ever before him, making no move to intercept the humans’ retreat. Soundwave’s field was shielded, as always, and his visor gave away nothing, but Switchshade felt lubricant welling in his optics as he gazed at the closest thing he had to a sire.

            Kliks passed, and neither mech moved. Dark red optics stared at the blank mask, and Switchshade tried to keep his emotions in check. However, no matter his patience, there was only one way the stand-off could end, and soon enough, the black mech broke. “Si-Soundwave. I- I didn’t mean to… I only wanted to… _Sire_. _Please_.” Another moment of quiet, no movement or change in the older mech, and then suddenly, in a flash of motion far too swift for Switchshade’s optics to follow, Soundwave stood right in front of him, tentacles wrapped around the younger mech’s chassis, pinning his arms to his sides and rendering his servos useless.

            Switchshade stared with wide red optics at his guardian, making no move to struggle or resist, and there was yet again a pause, heavy with tension, before Soundwave moved again, pulling the black mech firmly against his frame, the shields around his field falling to reveal relief/affection/worry/disappointment/anger/forgiveness/understanding. His spindly servos wrapped around his youngest’s shoulderplates gently, the odd embrace comforting beyond belief in its familiarity to Switchshade, who nearly melted against his guardian. “ _Sire_.”

            ::Soundwave: disappointed. Switchshade: taught better. Lord Megatron: displeased. ::

            The comm. on the spymaster’s signal was instantly received by Switchshade, and he dropped his optics in shame, fighting the urge to squirm like a rebuked sparkling, which was how he felt just then. “Forgive me. I didn’t wish to anger Lord Megatron, or to betray you, sire. I just… I couldn’t just stand by and…” Soundwave shook his helm, stopping Switchshade from attempting to explain himself further, and simply clung tighter to his errant sparkling.

            ::Switchshade: cannot come home now. Must return with Autobots. Soundwave: will come for you when safe. ::

            Switchshade cycled his optics in surprise, still making no move to attempt to escape the older mech’s embrace, and then braced himself as he spoke next, knowing it was unlikely to be accepted well. “I cannot… I _will not_ , be a spy upon the Autobots… Not even for you… I am sorry, _so_ sorry, but… They have shown kindness, wisdom, _mercy_ far beyond what I could expect towards an enemy. To show evil in return for their kindness is something I cannot do. F-Forgive me, sire…”

            Soundwave crooned softly, the layered harmonics of his vocalizer a sound Switchshade had only heard once before, when Frenzy had been gravely wounded in battle and Rumble was beside himself in fear for his spark-brother. The spymaster had comforted his casseticons then in a very similar fashion, and Switchshade felt his spark breaking at the unconditional parental love and acceptance Soundwave was displaying, so seemingly uncharacteristic for those who did not know him well.

            ::Soundwave: loyal to Lord Megatron. Nothing will change this. Switchshade: must follow his spark. Switchshade: will always be mine. Soundwave: accepts your decision, whatever it might be. Switchshade: must avoid any contact with Soundwave, Lord Megatron, and the Nemesis. Switchshade: is mine. Switchshade: is safe. ::

            With that, the spymaster untangled himself from the black mech, and caught the back of  Switchshade’s helm with a careful servo, gently nuzzling his forehelm against the younger mech’s, before moving away. For the barest instant, an image the humans deemed a ‘smiley face’ displayed upon the screen of his mask, and then Soundwave transformed and flew up into the sky, disappearing in an astroclick.

            Lubricant flowing freely from his optics now, blurring his vision, Switchshade watched his guardian fly away, back to his liege-lord, who would always hold his highest allegiance. Still shocked that Soundwave would not bring him back to Megatron in display of his loyalty, the black mech hurried to turn and find the humans, who had not gotten far at all before they stopped to stare in astonishment at Soundwave _hugging_ Switchshade.

            “So, is he like your space-dad or something?” Miko asked the instant Switchshade was beside them again. The black mech hurried to wipe the lubricant from his optics with his claws, offering a small, incredulous smile down at the humans as he reached down and offered his other servo for them to get on. “Something like that, young one.” He admitted quietly.

            Raf, however, was less interested in the little family reunion, and the youngest human gasped in dismay as their fears were realized. “He’s cut the hard-line. The dishes are locked onto Cybertron… for good.” All three humans slumped slightly, as they realized what that meant. “So an army of the undead will come to earth from Cybertron. Great. More zombies…” Jack muttered, disheartened and frightened in equal measure.

            “Come.” Switchshade commanded softly, scooping up the humans and turning to face the location Ratchet had chosen to lock onto for the groundbridge. “You did all that you could. It is in Lord Prime’s servos now.”

            Ratchet ‘bridged them back without asking for details, clearly distracted by what was occurring at the location of the spacebridge, and did not even glance behind him as he powered down the groundbridge and returned to monitoring the others. Switchshade moved to set the humans down carefully upon one of the higher ledges so that they could see the same screen Ratchet was viewing, and then stepped up behind the medic’s left shoulderplate, watching the events unfold with concerned optics.

            “Optimus! I’m registering a rapidly-expanding mass in their spacebridge vortex. One with a peculiar energy signature…” Ratchet alerted the Prime to the readings on his screen, and as he spoke, Agent Fowler awoke once more, this time much more coherent as he limped over to stand beside the other humans, his usually grim demeanor even more dark than usual.

            Meanwhile, Optimus answered the medic, “Dark Energon. Ratchet, we must destroy the spacebridge. There’s enough live energon coursing through it to achieve detonation, but we lack the firepower to ignite it.” Ratchet’s thoughtful scowl grew more pronounced. “If I knew how the spacebridge was engineered, I might find a technical way of accomplishing that feat.” Before the medic could begin to really get on a roll, Rafael spoke up, waving the flash-drive he had managed to salvage from the satellite base to catch the CMO’s attention. “Um, would schematics help?”

            Ratchet looked oddly conflicted, although he accepted Raf’s offer immediately, before cautioning the Prime, “Optimus, I must say, the spacebridge is our sole hope of ever returning to Cybertron. Are you certain it’s destruction is the only option?” Switchshade looked at the medic in a new light then, at that moment just realizing just how much the Autobots were sacrificing to protect earth. They were _giving up the only feasible chance they had of returning **home**_ , just to protect this tiny little planet full of mortal, breakable organics.

            Somehow, Optimus’ answer was less surprising than Switchshade thought it should have been. “I am afraid so.” Ratchet nodded once, despite the Prime being unable to see it, and answered, grave and determined, “Then by all means, let us light our darkest hour!”

            “Autobots, take your positions, and follow Ratchet’s lead.” Optimus’ command could be heard through the comm. line, and Switchshade was awed all over again at their sacrifice. The Prime continued, “While I make my stand…” and then the sound of a too-familiar aircraft approaching could be heard as well. Astroclicks later, a heavy war-frame landed near the Prime, and then Megatron’s smug, intimidating tones became audible. “Your fellow Autobots are wise, Optimus. They know when to retreat.”

            “I hold no illusions about engaging your army, Megatron. But I might derail its objective… by removing its head.” Switchshade trembled in secondhand fear at the _intent_ in the Lord Prime’s voice, but Lord Megatron’s response was merely to laugh. “Highly unlikely, Optimus, as I am infused with their very might!” The Lord Prime was not impressed. “One shall stand, one shall fall.” And with those legendary words, the two most powerful mecha in the known universe collided into a furious battle.


	16. One Shall Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so first off, I don’t know if it’s ‘all right’, or ‘alright’ and I’m too lazy to take two seconds and google it. Second, thank you all so much for the awesome comments! I dedicate this chapter to you, you wonderful, supportive oddballs! And I mean that in the best possible way. Really though, I am grateful for all the feedback, and it is greatly appreciated. My sincerest thanks once again to everyone who’s read/commented/left kudos/etc. Enjoy!

            Switchshade’s claws twitched nervously, the mech shifting on his pedes with restless energy, though his optics remained locked on the screen before Ratchet. The sounds of battle could easily be heard over the comm., and Switchshade found himself wishing that there was a visual feed instead of merely audial. The black mech may be in awe and terror of the Lord Prime, fear his wrath and his power, but Switchshade had seen Megatron’s fighting abilities up close and personal for many vorns. He knew the tales of the warlord’s days as a gladiator in the Pits of Kaon, and despite the Lord Prime’s prowess in battle, a victory was never guaranteed in single combat with Megatron. _Please, be safe. Come back safely…_

Despite everything, Switchshade had grown rather fond of earth, and though he felt slightly guilty for his disloyalty to his sire after all that Soundwave had done for him, he couldn’t help but hope that the Autobots could somehow managed to achieve victory. Megatron’s dark energon-powered warriors would utterly decimate earth, and at that moment, Lord Optimus Prime was the only one standing between the tiny blue planet and certain destruction.

            “These things are getting closer! That’s bad, right?” Agent Fowler asked, glancing at the schematics on the screen, pinpoints that showed where each life signal contaminated with the blood of Unicron was at any given moment heralding their approach to the spacebridge. The human was almost completely recovered from Starscream’s abuses, and although Switchshade could claim no personal fondness for the discourteous human, he found himself glad nonetheless that he seemed to be recuperating well.

            “Ratchet, we’re in position.” Arcee declared, a quieter, “Hey ‘Bulk, wanna bet who can bash more zombies before we offline if they make it through?” and a subsequent clang audible in the background. Bumblebee whirred in amusement as Cliffjumper and Bulkhead placed wagers on whose kill count would be higher, while Arcee attempted to simultaneously cuff both mechs around their helms and listen to Ratchet’s instructions on how to detonate the spacebridge.

            “Arcee, pay close attention.” the medic commanded, not even bothering to attempt to chastise the other mechs, well aware that it would only be a waste of time they didn’t have. Even as he began to relay the precise instructions to the femme, Switchshade and the humans listened in horror as the sounds of the battle between Optimus and Megatron suddenly ceased, and then Megatron spoke. “Ah, misdirection, Optimus! You would have made a fine Decepticon.” Clearly something had occurred on their end that had not been transmitted back to the base, but Ratchet quickly passed on a warning to Arcee that Megatron might now be aware of their actions. “I chose my side.” The Prime’s deep voice was troubled, but determined, and the vast history between the two mechs was made more than evident by his tone. The sounds of battle quickly commenced once again.

            “…Now follow the line from the flow regulator to the energon pub. There should be a valve.” Arcee quickly acknowledged the medic’s instructions with a brief, “I see it.” Ratchet continued, “Good. To turn all that power against itself, all you need do is reverse the current.” There was a brief pause, and a sound of exertion, before the femme triumphantly announced, “Current reversed.” To the brief distraction and surprise of all present at the base, Agent Fowler suddenly jumped and exclaimed, “Yes!” at the news, causing Switchshade to wonder if perhaps the human was not fully recovered after all.

            With a mastery only a mech as ancient and wise as Ratchet could possess, the medic stoically refrained from rolling his eyes at the adult human’s antics. _Sparklings, each and every one of them. Mechs and humans alike…_ “I’ll ready the groundbridge.” He conveyed to the four Autobots still waiting near the base of the spacebridge. The battle between Optimus and Megatron must have concluded, for all noises had ceased from the Prime’s comm., but his life signal was still active, so the details could wait.

            However, blaster fire at the detonation point drew the attention of those at the base, and they realized that Megatron had not ceased to fight, but had simply switched targets. The Autobots fired on the Decepticon’s lord, but he dodged and shrugged off the shots with ease, returning fire and almost immediately striking Arcee directly in the chassis. Stunned and disoriented, the femme fell back, and Cliffjumper instantly leapt to catch her before her frame could fall, his normally cheerful optics suddenly narrowed in rage as he turned to fire on Megatron once more. He attacked viciously with his left servo’s blaster, while his right cradled the femme protectively to his chassis. “Wake up, please, wake up, you’re going to be alright. Arcee, please, hang in there.” The red Autobot muttered continually, his gentle, encouraging tone a stark contrast to the rage writ all over his faceplates as he did his level best to snuff out Megatron’s spark from a distance.

            The energy current reversal seemed to be working, and the four ‘Bots quickly converged together, worried for a moment, until Optimus suddenly came into view several yards from them, sprinting quickly to their location as he attempted to evade the chunks of rock steadily disintegrating under his pedes. Ratchet quickly stated, “Optimus, the groundbridge is ready and waiting!” Together, the five warriors moved to converge on its location, Optimus commanding, “Autobots, jump!” They obeyed, the Prime in the lead, with Bumblebee and Bulkhead right behind him. Cliffjumper took up the rear, still cradling Arcee’s unconscious form in his arms as he followed.

            Back at the base, four humans and two mechs waited with bated breath, Raf finally asking when the ‘Bots did not instantly emerge from the groundbridge’s portal, “Do you… think they’re…?” The old medic hurried to assure him, “Five life signals, although one is very faint.” Switchshade heaved an exvent of relief without conscious thought, grateful beyond measure that they had all managed to survive, although he was quick to retreat from the center of the room when the Lord Prime emerged first from the groundbridge. Optimus landed lightly on his pedes, straitening and surveying those in the base with grave optics, his battle-scarred frame a sight to behold. Switchshade immediately lowered his optics in great respect, bowing his helm and subtly backing away, grateful that the Prime’s attention was currently on Ratchet.

            Miko grinned widely when Bulkhead was the next to emerge from the groundbridge, crying his name joyfully and racing to meet him as he stepped forward, a matching smile crossing his faceplates as he knelt to offer his servo for her. Bumblebee came through next, and right behind him came Cliffjumper carefully carrying Arcee. Jack ran forward, checking himself as he realized just how badly damaged she was, and the red racer could only offer a half-hearted smile, more than concerned himself for the courageous femme. Miko and Raf tried to offer comfort as well, but in spite of the stunning victory, a solemnity had fallen over the base at the grievous extent of Arcee’s damage.

            “We nearly lost one this week. By the Allspark, I will not let us lose her.” Ratchet declared with great conviction. Jack remained at Arcee’s side, and reached out to gently touch her servo. At the contact, her icy blue optics flickered, and then onlined, and she managed to meet the human’s gaze blearily. “Arcee…” Jack murmured dolefully. Arcee managed a tiny, mischievous grin despite her pain, stating, “Jack, really? There _are_ other motorcycles in the world…” prompting a small smile from the human in return. Cliffjumper chuckled softly, careful not to jostle her, although he cradled her even closer to his chassis happily at the fact that she had not only regained consciousness, but was coherent enough to joke lightly.

            Ratchet turned from his soon-to-be-patient to look to Optimus, asking quietly, “And Megatron?” There was a grief that Switchshade could not understand in the Lord Prime’s tone when he answered, “Not even _he_ could have survived ground zero.” The oddly solemn moment struck the black mech as odd, for were the Autobots to lose a highly ranked commander, there would be a great deal of joy and celebrations aboard the Nemesis.

            “Prime!” Agent Fowler broke the solemnity with his brisk voice, though his tone softened minutely as he continued, “I didn’t get to thank you ‘Bots for saving me… I owe you one. We all do.” As he spoke, he moved to the door he had originally come through, leaving the moment he finished his last sentence.

            As soon as the agent was gone, Cliffjumper carefully lowered Arcee to her pedes at her behest, keeping a servo held out for her to hold onto for balance as she needed, Bumblebee stepping to her other side to offer similar support. Now standing on her own two pedes, the femme managed a much more convincing smile to the humans, causing the tension in the room to decrease a great deal. Miko’s answering smile suddenly dropped from her face as the young human seemed to realize something, and she stepped towards Optimus, asking hesitantly, “So… is this the part where you say goodbye, and tell us we need to forget we ever saw you?”

            The Prime’s powerful blue optics met the human’s eyes for a moment, and then he tilted his helm slightly in answer. “Without the means of leaving this world, we Autobots take strength in the bonds we have forged.” At that, he turned to glance at Switchshade, noting the younger mech’s terrified, excessively humble stance, and making a note to himself to speak with the black mech once all else had been concluded, before continuing to address the humans. “You three have become friends, and are all true warriors-if not in body, then in spirit.” He continued to speak, but Switchshade had nearly reached his capacity to remain still and listen. Though he had undergone nearly no physical combat, the events of the past several days caused a severe strain on his processor, and being in such close proximity to the mech powerful enough to best Megatron, and bring about his demise, was not helping in the slightest.

            Distantly, Switchshade noted that the Prime was sending the humans home with their guardians, although Cliffjumper had offered to take Jack while Ratchet tended to Arcee’s wounds, but most of his processor was focused on quickly and unobtrusively making his way back to the holding cell in which he had first woken in the base as quickly as possible. He managed to escape the main area, hurrying to his cell and moving inside swiftly, closing the door behind him and suddenly wishing that there wasn’t an open space in the bars to see through. The plating between his doorwings tinged slightly, but Ratchet’s handiwork and his self-repair had all but completed the healing procedures.

            Settling down in his favored corner, Switchshade pulled his plating close to his frame, and began to manually shut down most of his systems, allowing his processor time to defrag and begin to come to terms with everything that had occurred that solar cycle. Ratchet’s promises of no harm to come, Soundwave’s shocking acceptance, Arcee’s near-death experience, _Megatron’s deactivation oh Holy Primus how by the Allspark is Soundwave going to cope? He has dedicate his entire **functioning** to Lord Megatron, and now his liege-lord is lost. Starscream will rule now, but Soundwave… Oh Primus… Sire…_


	17. Interim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much entirely made up of completely unnecessary angst. Like, honestly, there’s no plot. At all. It’s all just Switchshade, worrying without need. That’s it. Hopefully the next one will have a little more action… or something. The discussion with Optimus will probably happen next chapter. I’m not sure, I’m really just making this up as I go. Enjoy!

            Switchshade woke from an uneasy recharge half a cycle later. A quick scan revealed that the door to his cell had remained unlocked, and when he extended his sensors, he noted that it was now what the humans called ‘night’, when their sun did not illuminate their side of the earth. The humans were gone, likely home with their families and asleep, for they had lives of their own to live, amongst their own kind, despite their recent dealings with the Cybertronians. Meanwhile, all six living Autobots were currently in the base, and Switchshade had no desire to venture forth and meet with any of them right just then.

            Ratchet had been gentle, kind beyond anything he could have expected, certainly, but Switchshade could no more trust in the medic’s word that he would not be harmed than the Autobots could trust _him_ when he tried to convince them _he_ could be trusted. Now that the immediate threat of Megatron and his plans was out of the way, the Autobots would have much more time to deal with their captive, and Switchshade did not have enough pride to attempt to deny his terror. While distracted, the Autobots had seen him as little more than an inconvenience, and the mech was convinced that they had only staved off physical violence and reprimand thus far because he had managed to be somewhat useful, if only in that he had managed to not let their humans die.

            _But Ratchet said I would not be harmed… How do they define ‘harm’? If I am still online, am I ‘unharmed’? Would it be considered harm if my doorwings were removed? My servos? Pedes? Armor? Would an earned penalty be considered different than ‘harm’ for the sake of fun? What if it is the Lord Prime inflicting the damage? How far would be ‘too far’, how much damage could I sustain before Ratchet would deem it ‘harm’? What if-?_

            Switchshade shook his helm, glancing at the unlocked door once more before staunchly ignoring it. The Autobots would do as they willed, and he had little choice other than to keep his helm down and his vocalizer shut, and do what he could to appease them whenever necessary. Thus far, at least, none seemed overly _pleased_ by the concept of violence, although the Wrecker’s tendencies and the femme’s cold efficiency still unsettled him. Physical reprimand was inevitable, for although the Autobots had proven surprisingly merciful thus far, they were still but mechs and femmes at spark, and their culture couldn’t possibly be _that_ different from that of the Decepticons. Pain and torment was inevitable from one’s commanding officers when mistakes were made. It was simply the way life worked. As a captive, even one who had thus far managed to curry enough favor to remain unscathed, he was in an even worse position, but so long as he was careful, perhaps he could do well enough to remain functioning for some time yet.

            Rising to his pedes, the dark mech began to pace, and several joors passed without his knowledge as he pondered what might come. The muffled sounds of the three young humans’ return were audible for a moment, before fading into suspicious silence, although Switchshade was much too distracted with worry to do more than idly make note of the fact. Now, it was peacetime. Now, there was no constant threat hanging over the Autobots’ helms, no more so than Commander Starscream, anyway, who would doubtless be at least moderately less… _ambitious_ , than Megatron. Now, in this lull of activity, the ‘Bots would have much more time to _tend to_ their captive. Truthfully, he wondered why they had waited so long to begin.

            After several kliks more, with no change, Switchshade finally gave in to his curiosity and growing boredom, and turned up his audial input sensors far past the recommended settings, using a few tricks he had learned from his sire to be able to hear incredibly clearly over a great distance. He almost immediately detected the strong, steady thrumming of the Lord Prime’s spark, and he quickly dialed down his audials just slightly, enough to hear Ratchet’s confident pedesteps approaching the Prime, as he asked, “Optimus, why so glum? This planet, _all_ planets are finally free from Megatron’s tyranny.”

            Lord Prime’s voice was strangely disheartened as he answered, “I do not disagree, Ratchet. It’s just… a small part of me hoped to change Megatron’s mind, not extinguish his spark.” Switchshade’s own spark stuttered in surprise at the odd hesitance in the Prime’s voice. Ratchet seemed to have no such worry, gruffly reassuring his oldest friend and leader, “Optimus! His vileness was not slain by your hand, but by his own twisted arrogance!” A moment passed, Switchshade waited with interest to hear what might be said in answer, before nearly falling over in surprise when Ratchet continued, his vocalizer much gentler now. “I’m sorry. I know the two of you had quite a history.”

            “But the Megatron I once fought beside perished eons ago-the day he chose to become a Decepticon.” Prime’s vocalizer was once again disheartened, although he seemed to have long since come to terms with what had happened. Shaking off the melancholy of Megatron’s loss, the Prime continued, “The Decepticons may be in disarray, but they are not without leadership. And while Starscream is no Megatron,” Switchshade snorted quietly to himself. “-he is far from predictable.”

            A sudden explosion in the base rocked the ground beneath their feet, and in his cell, Switchshade winced in pain as his audials were assaulted by the sudden, vast noise. He instantly returned their settings to normal, even as he sprinted from his cell, hoping he would not incur anymech’s wrath by doing so, for he had not been commanded to remain within. He heard Ratchet’s cry up ahead of, “Decepticons! We’re under attack!”, and he immediately onlined his battle protocols as he raced to the common area, processor racing with possibilities of what could have happened.

            An astroclick later, red optics blinked in confusion as an odd smoke-like substance filled the air of the common area. As the smoke began to clear, Switchshade heard Rafael’s voice reassuring Ratchet, “It’s no attack, Ratchet.” The human paused to cough for a moment, before continuing, “It’s my volcano…” even as he spoke, the odd little recreation the human had made sunk down into itself, causing his shoulders to fall. “…was…”

            Racing spark gradually slowing at the realization that there was no threat, Switchshade suddenly realized that in his haste to reach the explosion site, he had not paid close enough attention to his surroundings, and had moved to stand merely three yards from the Lord Prime. His battle protocols onlined, an aggressive stance, helm up and red optics clearly visible, Switchshade knew what he must look like. _Primus, have mercy…_

            Instantly forcibly offlining his battle protocols, he quickly moved his servos to shield his chassis carefully even as he slammed his gaze to the ground, bowing his helm to hide the red gleam of his optics as he cautiously edged away from the Prime. A flash of deep blue optics in his direction revealed that this time, his retreat would not go unnoticed, and the dark mech tensed in anticipation of pain, drawing his plating as close to his frame as he could, lowering his helm even further and continuing to shakily retreat as unobtrusively as possible.

Ratchet, meanwhile, was staring at Rafael’s creation in shocked dismay, before his attention was pulled to Miko and Bulkhead, as the human exclaimed, “Hold it still, Bulkhead! Jupiter needs it’s Red Spot.” The Wrecker was smiling in amusement as he obediently held an odd little replica of earth’s solar system in a single servo as Miko attacked it with a paintbrush. When she spilled a drop of paint onto the floor of the base, the human tilted her head with a smile of her own. “Oopsie!” she said, entirely unrepentant.

“What… in the _Allspark_ … is going on in here?” Ratchet demanded, looking as though he were about to lose any semblance of patience he might have once had. Jack looked up from where he and Arcee were working on a motorcycle, explaining, “Our projects are due tomorrow.” Cliffjumper grinned broadly from where he lounged nearby, offering up comments and suggestions on how to improve Jack’s project while carefully avoiding any actual work to help at the same time. “Maybe it needs one of those doo-hickies?” Arcee cast her comrade a considering glance, and then picked up the item in question, raising an optic ridge as she offered it to Jack.

Smirking at her clear indecision, Jack asked, “You’re a motorcycle, Arcee. Shouldn’t you know how to build a motorcycle engine?” Cliffjumper snickered loudly, amused, prompting the femme to scowl over at him before looking back to her human. “You’re a human, Jack. Can you build me a small intestine?” Cliff piped in, “Ooh… burn!” as Ratchet visibly forced himself to invent and exvent to remain calm.

“Well… you can’t work on these ‘projects’ in here. You’re… well… making a mess!” It was then that Rafael employed one of the most deadly weapons known to mankind. The puppy-dog eyes. “But… the science fair is a big part of our grade…” The medic wavered, and then Miko piped in, “Yeah! If Bulkhead doesn’t help me finish this model of our solar system-” the Autobot CMO interrupted, finally at the end of his patience. “Oh? And what does Bulkhead know of your solar system?” he turned to Raf, clearly struggling to ignore the wide, pleading eyes of the youngest human. “Or Bumblebee, of your volcanoes? Or-”

“Arcee of their motorcycles?” Cliffjumper piped in, grinning when Jack smirked at him in return, the human having been about to ask something similar. The joke went right over the medic’s helm. “Precisely! We’re not earthlings. And _they’re_ not scientists.” He gestured dismissively to the four Autobots, none of whom appeared eager to argue with him, although they did not abandon their humans to their tasks just yet.

Switchshade had to suppress a smile at the tiny drama playing out before him. There was no violence in Ratchet’s optics, despite his harsh tone, and given what he had learned of the medic, the dark mech decided that perhaps Ratchet was simply going to chastise the ‘Bots and humans for making a mess, and that no physical repercussions would be forthcoming. He had been permitted to retreat until he got his back to one of the walls, although when he tried to make his way back to the hallway that held his cell, the Prime’s optics suddenly locked onto him with a laser focus, prompting him to begin trembling, and the Lord Prime shook his helm slightly, deliberately. The command was clear. _Stay._

           


	18. The Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter doesn’t have much for redeeming qualities either, but at least Optimus has the chance to begin to assuage Switchshade’s fears. He’ll probably still be skittish for a while, but he should start to get better from here. My gratitude for all the comments and kudos, and I hope you enjoy!

    “M-m-my l-lord…” Switchshade was kneeling again. It hadn’t been a conscious decision on his part-instincts honed from near millennia of avoiding Megatron’s rages had driven him to the dust without thought. Dark red optics flickering in fear were kept to the ground, dark helm bowed so low chinplates brushed chassis.

            Despite his desire to remove himself from the common area the instant it became clear that there was no immediate threat, Switchshade had been unwilling to disobey the implied command from Lord Prime and risk worsening his anger. He had remained where he stood, hovering uncertainly in the entrance of the hall that lead to his cell, even as the Prime had turned back to speak with Ratchet for a moment. “But the Autobots _are_ their guardians, Ratchet. Would it hurt to learn more of earth by helping our young friends with their schoolwork?” The medic had scoffed quietly, muttering, “Or perhaps our ‘young friends’ should learn more of Cybertron…”

            Optimus did not seem inclined to argue the point, however, turning from his oldest friend to face Switchshade once more. He made his way over towards the trembling mech, gesturing for the younger to follow him as he moved towards the exit of the base. “Would you come with me, Switchshade? I feel there is something we must discuss.”

            And so Switchshade found himself on the rocky terrain that covered and concealed the base below their pedes, nearly shaking apart at the seams as he struggled to contain his terror. “M-m-my l-lord…” It was a gamble, to speak before Lord Prime could, but perhaps, if he admitted to his known faults and showed his willingness to accept any penalty laid upon him, the damage might be mitigated, even if only marginally.

            When Lord Prime made no move to stop him, Switchshade dared a brief glance up, avoiding looking directly at his optics, but noting the furrowed optic ridge and troubled frown. He instantly dropped his own optics again. “I- I know that I have acted in ways that are… not appropriate for one in my position, a-and, I know my place, please…”

He heard Lord Prime shift on his pedes slightly, but still, he made no move to interrupt, and no punishment was immediately forthcoming, so the black mech gathered his nerve, and continued. “I- Ratchet returned my weapons systems and long-range comms when I asked to accompany the humans on their mission to turn away the satellites, and I realize this was done without your permission, but-” he cut himself off, suddenly realizing how that statement could be taken, and he looked up apologetically. “Not that I am attempting to lay blame at Ratchet’s pedes! I- I know that all fault is upon my helm, and I will accept any penalty you see fit…” He dropped his helm once again, his forehelm pressed into the dusty rock before Prime’s pedes. “I meant no harm, I swear it. J-Just now, when I left my cell, I did not mean to threaten anyone. I heard Ratchet’s call and thought the base was under attack, I never meant to…”

            The continued silence from Lord Prime was unsettling, almost more so than the expected violence might be. Switchshade finally muted his vocalizer, lapsing into silence as he awaited the Prime’s will. Never mind the fact that this was the mech who had only yesterday _killed Megatron_. Even if not by his own servo, still the Prime had emerged victorious from hand to hand combat with the powerful warlord, and had set in motions that events that had extinguished Megatron’s spark. _Primus, I pray thee Lord Prime does not cause greater damage in punishment than was Megatron’s wont…_

            Silence reigned. Then, a loud crash as Lord Prime fell to his own knees, not pausing at Switchshade’s violent flinch but immediately reaching out to lift the black mech’s helm from the dust. “Switchshade…” The Prime’s powerful voice was shaken, shocked, and when Switchshade obediently lifted his helm at his prompting, he noticed that Lord Prime’s faceplates were stricken.

            “Did you…? Did you follow me here, expecting me to… _punish_ you? With physical violence?” In confusion, Switchshade dared to meet Lord Prime’s gaze briefly at his troubled tone. “Yes, m-my lord? Is that not the way of the Autobots? I- I have displeased you, and in my experience, any higher ranking officer may penalize a subordinate as they see fit if mistakes are made, my lord. Here, I am only a captive, and you are not merely a commanding officer, but the _Prime_. I…” He trailed off again, lowering his optics.

            “By the Allspark… On the Nemesis, you were _beaten_? You expect the same treatment here, at _my_ servos?” Switchshade’s nervous silence was answer enough. “Primus…” The Prime swore softly, a very rare occurrence. “Listen to me now, Switchshade, and listen well. However you were treated with the Decepticons, things will be different here. I do not abuse those under my command. My power is used to protect, not to punish. You have made no mistakes to warrant any penalties thus far, and if you do in the future, the penalty shall be fitting for the crime, and will not, under any circumstances, involve physical violence.”

            He ex-vented heavily, before moving his servos to Switchshade’s shoulderplates, urging the ex-‘Con to meet his optics. “Autobots do not employ physical violence to enforce command. We base our command structures by rank, yes, but it is enforced by trust and respect, not fear and pain. I did not ask you to come here so that I might harm you, but rather to gain some insight as to why you seem to fear all of us in general, and me in particular. Prime though I may be, I am still only a mech. Now, though, it seems that I have my answer.”

            Switchshade’s optics widened in surprise, “But, my lord, you are so much more than ‘only a mech’! You- you carry the _matrix_ in your chassis, it is yours by divine right! Surely you are deserving of at _least_ the respect and honor that L- Megatron demanded…” But Lord Prime shook his head. “Perhaps, but if I am to be respected, I would prefer to earn that respect in word and deed, not because of who I am. You need never kneel, to me or to any other Autobot, and you may address me as ‘Optimus’, not ‘my lord’. I will not demand veneration of my Autobots, and neither will I ask it of you.”

            That said, the Prime rose lithely to his pedes, offering a strong servo to Switchshade, which was hesitantly accepted after a brief pause. “You need not return to that cell again, Switchshade. It may yet be some time until we can trust you fully, but until you give us reason to disbelieve you, I am willing to give you a chance. Cliffjumper can show you to open quarters; you should ask him when we return. If you have any questions, or concerns, please bring them to Ratchet if you feel uncomfortable speaking with me.”

            The Prime turned to go back into the base, leaving Switchshade unbound and unguarded, showing an inordinate amount of trust in doing so, and right before he moved through the entrance, he glanced back at the black mech. “We are no longer your enemies, Switchshade, and we will not harm you.”

            Switchshade watched him go back into the base, speechless, and then quickly transformed into his alt-mode and drove away, needing time to process all that he had just learned. _He can’t possibly be serious… can he?_

 


	19. Building Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I’d like to have a great excuse, but in all honesty, I’m just lazy. This has been a blast to write so far, though, so I don’t really know why. Welp. My gratitude for all the great comments, and I’m glad so many of you seem to be enjoying this story so far. Please continue to enjoy it at your leisure.

Switchshade drove for what seemed like orns, though in reality it was less than a joor. His processor swirled with disbelief and skeptical gratitude, and after thinking over what he had been told, the dark mech decided that little of his situation had changed. Lord Prime- _Optimus, he wishes to be addressed as ‘Optimus’, but how by the Allspark could I dare to address him so familiarly, as if I were one of his own?_ -hadn’t seemed displeased in regards to his bold actions, and nor had he put any punishment into effect for Switchshade’s weapons and comms being returned. If Switchshade continued to watch his step, and to stay out of Lord- Optimus’ way as much as possible, then perhaps there would be no punishment for some time yet. If the Prime was telling the truth, then he had little to fear either way, for the only two mecha in the known universe he cared about were safe aboard the Nemesis, out of Lord Prime’s reach. _Ratchet… Ratchet will be safe, Lord Prime values him too greatly to harm him to coerce proper obedience if my conduct is… dissatisfactory._

Lost in thought, it took the black mech a moment to recognize the sound of two powerful engines roaring as they approached rapidly. Immediately he rolled to a stop, shifting into his root mode and crouching defensively, his blaster charging on his right arm as he lifted a blade on his left, red eyes sparking as he faced the threat. Nanoclicks later, he recognized the red Chevy and yellow muscle car, and instantly lowered his weapons, standing down as he watched Cliffjumper and Bumblebee approach. They transformed to their root modes as well, several yards from Switchshade, and Cliffjumper grinned widely at the black mech. “ ‘Shade, my mech, what’re ya doing way out here?”

            Optics widening, Switchshade felt his spark leap and accelerate rapidly as he suddenly realized his journey could be taken as an attempt to escape, despite Lord Prime leaving him free and unbound outside of the base. “I-I was just… I didn’t mean to…” Cliffjumper’s smile fell, and he stepped forwards, servos coming up in an ‘I’m unarmed’ gesture. “Hey now, it’s alright. You ain’t in trouble or anything. Boss-bot just wanted us all to round up back at base-we got intel that the ‘Cons are moving energon and he wanted to brief us on the plan. ‘Bee and I volunteered to come find you.”

            Dark red optics met and held cheerful blue for a long moment, longer than Switchshade had dared to make optic contact with any of the Autobots since his capture, as he searched for any trace of deceit in the bright red mech. He found none. Sensing his discomfiture, Bumblebee moved forward slightly as well, drawing Switchshade’s gaze as he reassuringly whirred, :: _Optimus isn’t mad, I promise. We just need to head back to base, all three of us. Arcee was out on patrol as well, and Bulkhead went to find her. You will not be harmed, for you did nothing wrong._ :: Switchshade cycled his optics in surprised gratitude at the young scout, younger even than himself, though not by much more than a vorn or two, and already possessed of great insight and compassion, even for a former enemy. In reply, the dark mech nodded, offering a tiny smile which was brightly returned, and then all three mechs transformed again and began the drive back to the base.

            Not two kliks into the drive, Cliffjumper and Bumblebee made a race of it, alt-modes built for sleek speed zipping ahead, and Switchshade was more than content to follow in their trail, amused at the good-natured taunting between the two on an open comm. signal. They arrived back at the base in a fraction of the time it had taken Switchshade to leave, Cliffjumper having held the lead nearly all the way back, but Bumblebee managing to pull ahead in the last few precious nanoclicks, winning the scout the victory by millimeters. As they pulled into the common area, all three mechs transformed back into their root modes, and Bumblebee immediately began a cocky victory dance, causing a quiet chuckle from Switchshade and grumbling and a demand for a rematch from Cliffjumper.

            Switchshade’s good humor drained from him faster than he could invent when he noticed Lord Prime watching the three of them with an unreadable expression in his optics, and the black mech instantly offlined his vocalizer, abruptly cutting off his laughter. He immediately dropped his optics to the floor, moving carefully away from Bumblebee and Cliffjumper, and then darted a curious glance to Ratchet, who had clearly already catalogued and dismissed their presence, continuing to speak with Lord Prime regarding the humans’ projects. It appeared that they were progressing less than admirably, and despite the ‘Bots best efforts at helping, Ratchet was dissatisfied with their work thus far, and wanted to remain at the base and ‘help supervise’. Arcee had gone out on a short patrol when Cliffjumper agreed to accompany Bumblebee to track down Switchshade, and Jack had been far too focused to openly object at their brief departure.

            Now, as Optimus agreed to Ratchet’s request to remain behind, his optics flicked to Switchshade once again, and the mech in question tensed, wondering what could possibly have drawn the Prime’s attention. He was simply standing, servos held open and unthreatening at his sides, helm meekly bowed. There was a flash of… concern? in Lord Prime’s optics, and then his gaze moved on, falling on Bumblebee as he summoned the scout to accompany him to investigate the moving energon.

            “Why did you want the rest of us to be here, Optimus? If you were only going to take one of us?” Arcee asked curiously, tilting her helm, sharp optics darting between Optimus and Switchshade for a moment. “Because I do not know where or when Starscream plans to strike next, and given his… unpredictability, I felt it best that we _all_ remain closer to base, at least for now. Do what you can to help the children with their projects. Bumblebee and I will call for backup if necessary.”

            As Lord Prime and Bumblebee vanished from sight, Switchshade felt his sparkchamber go cold, his wide red optics watching closely until they were gone. _Lord Prime is powerful, Bumblebee swift and extremely resourceful… They can handle anything Starscream has in store… Primus, watch over your Chosen and bring him and his scout safely home…_

A calm, almost lazy quiet fell over the base then, the only sound the occasional muttering of a ‘Bot or human as they discussed the projects they worked on. Even Miko was somewhat at peace, humming softly to herself as she had Bulkhead once again holding up her solar system replica so she could ‘touch up’ the paint. However, even as Ratchet began to interfere- * _ahem_ *, supervise the humans’ projects, Switchshade found himself unable to relax. A great majority of his fear for his own safety had fled him at Lord Prime’s departure, and yet an uneasy feeling of dread washed over him as he wondered what, exactly, Lord Prime and Bumblebee would encounter. Astroclicks later, Switchshade made a decision that had him shaking his helm at his own foolishness, as he shielded away any trace of his location before opening a very ancient, very familiar private comm..

[[Sire?]]


	20. Bad Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Soundwave might be slightly OOC in this as well, but… too bad? I have to admit, I have a headcanon that despite his typical reticence, on the inside, Soundwave is channeling Squidward (Think: Everyone’s an idiot except for me) with all the sarcasm and snark therein. Yes, I’m a dork. Yes, I watch Spongebob. Deal with it. Or not. So, most of that wasn’t really relevant to the story, but yeah. That might explain some of Soundwave’s behavior and ‘speech’ patterns and whatnot. Also, take a look at Soundwave's body language when Starscream takes off after Skyquake knocks him into the rock. Yeah, I know that he's scanning for Megatron's life signal, but it totally looks like he could be in the middle of a comm conversation as well. Unless he's just placing bets with Steve... Once again, I would like to express my gratitude to everyone who has taken the time to leave a review! It’s always super encouraging, and legitimately the only reason I’ve been updating every day/every other so far. Enjoy this next chapter!

            … [[Switchshade…]]

            [[Sire, please, before you-]]

            [[Switchshade.]]

            [[…]]

            [[What did I tell you?]]

            [[Sire…]]

            [[What. Did. I. Tell. You.]]

            [[… _Switchshade: must avoid any contact with Soundwave, Lord Megatron, and the Nemesis_ … But sire-]]

            [[…]]

            [[…]]

            [[Switchshade: disobeyed. At risk of Autobot retaliation if discovered. Switchshade: foolish]]

            Despite his stern message, Soundwave almost immediately pulsed a reassuring comfort/protect/affection along the long-range comm. before sending in quick succession irritation/exasperation/concern.

            [[Query: Why did Switchshade risk comms? Have the Autobots moved to harm you?]]

            [[No! No, they have been nothing but gracious and merciful… I just… Are you with Starscream now, sire?]]

            [[…Affirmative]]

            [[Is Lord Optimus Prime present? And the scout known as ‘Bumblebee’? I know your loyalty to Lord Megatron was/is unshakeable, but to Starscream…]]

            [[Switchshade: must not speak of Lord Megatron again…]]

            [[Understood. Sire, please, if it is within your power, do not harm the Lord Prime or his scout. I know better than most your abilities, and I would not see them come to harm, nor you at their servos]]

            [[Soundwave: will not actively interfere unless necessary. Starscream: overreaching]]

            [[Sire, might I ask a favor?]]

            [[…]]

***

            Switchshade glanced cautiously around the base as he edged towards the corner that was rapidly becoming one of his favorite places to lurk. Muting his field and dulling his optics, he subtly gave off a feeling of boredom/relaxation as he leaned against the wall, half-heartedly watching as Ratchet successfully commandeered all three humans’ projects. Knowing well the miniscule, odd tickling sensation in the center of the helm that occurred when Soundwave was procuring hidden or shielded knowledge, Switchshade felt a vast wave of gratitude towards his surrogate sire for respecting his choice enough to not even _attempt_ to get past Switchshade’s shielding. _Not that it would be difficult in any way for him to do so… I would just need to disconnect as quickly as possible so that the location of the base might remain secret._

            Soundwave, after sending nearly every variation of disappointment and exasperation known to mech-kind, had acquiesced to the younger mech’s plea to be given a play-by-play of what was occurring where Lord Prime and Bumblebee had gone to investigate. If both Starscream and Soundwave were present, it must be important. Thankfully, Soundwave knew his adopted mechling’s situation meant that any relayed information would be of little tactical value to the Autobots, and so had agreed to Switchshade’s request.

            With perfect clarity, Soundwave played back the conversation occurring between Lord Prime, Starscream, and… _Skyquake_? Intrigued, the black mech settled down further in his corner, crossing his arms before his chassis and leaning heavily against the wall at his back as he slid down to a sitting position, giving the appearance of being half-asleep. He listened closely as Soundwave began to transmit.

            “…this ancient war still worth fighting? When so many comrades have been lost, and worlds destroyed? If you want to be a true leader, Starscream, then stray from Megatron’s path-” Soundwave paused for a moment here to play a brief recording of a derisive snort that sounded quite a bit like Knockout’s, before continuing, “-and lead the Decepticons toward peace.” Lord Prime’s voice was as strong and commanding as ever, causing Switchshade to exvent heavily in relief at the knowledge that a battle had not yet commenced. The sudden noise made Cliffjumper and Arcee glance over at him curiously, but at the sight of his nearly-offlined optics and drooping helm, the two ‘Bots let him be.

            Soundwave continued, sharing the Decepticons’ new lord’s perspective on Lord Prime’s suggestion, “I would be willing to consider a truce-” Switchshade’s spark fluttered violently, and he dialed up his audials even more, despite knowing that it would change nothing of the volume of the comm., “if _you_ would be willing to bow before me, Optimus Prime.” At the seeker’s final words, the desperate, tentative hope that had been building in Switchshade’s spark instantly guttered and died out, replaced with a burning _rage_ at Starscream’s temerity. Soundwave, of course, picked up on the fury that Switchshade couldn’t keep entirely from their comm., and responded with a wave of mild amusement before continuing.

            “ _Again_?! Bow to _this_!” Lord Prime was not given a chance to answer the seeker’s outrageous demand, for it seemed Skyquake had taken offense as well, instantly snarling at Starscream before the sound of armor striking armor clued Switchshade into the fact that the fight had begun. Oddly enough, it seemed that Skyquake had struck first at Starscream, not Lord Prime. Soundwave confirmed, [[Skyquake: loyal to Lord Megatron. Refuses to believe what… Will not accept that Starscream is now acting lord of the Decepticons]]

            The Spymaster continued the comm., as Optimus attempted to convince Skyquake to join him and help the Autobots end the war, but his offer was almost instantly rebuffed, “I will _never_ side with a _Prime_!” Again, the sounds of battle occurred, and this time, Switchshade began to worry, despite knowing full well that Optimus was more than capable of handling even a warrior of Skyquake’s ability. [[Starscream: approaches]] Soundwave warned, before the comm. was suddenly shut off from his end of the line, leaving Switchshade alone once again.

            He sat, stunned, in the corner for a moment longer, before suddenly rising to his pedes and pacing restlessly. Bulkhead glanced over at him once, smirked, and then looked back at the CMO. Ratchet was now attempting to ‘help’ Rafael with his project, and Raf bore a similar look to Miko. “Um… What is it?” he asked the medic/scientist curiously. “You’ll find out.”

            “But, Ratchet? Shouldn’t I be doing the work?” The medic looked down at the tiny human with a scowl, waving a servo in warning when Raf made to touch ‘his’ project. “Eh-yeah, yeah, yeah. _Don’t_ touch! Just watch, and learn.” Bulkhead and Arcee stood nearby, watching Ratchet work, and then Bulkhead muttered, “So, we’re just gonna go help Jack and Miko finish their-” That caught Ratchet’s attention, and the medic instantly rose, looking between the Wrecker and the femme in shock. “Without my supervision?! You want them to be _right_ , don’t you?” When his audience simply glanced at each other, the medic grinned almost maniacally, and lit a welder on the tip of one of his fingers, the light from his servo reflecting eerily off his faceplates as he declared, “Then watch a master at work!”

            Switchshade took one look at the medic’s faceplates, and the easily lethal weapon wielded with precise skill despite the seeming distraction of the mech who held it, and then quietly stepped back from where he had been about to approach. _Nope. It can wait._ Miko, leaning against the railing of a higher platform beside Jack as they watched ‘Raf work on his project’, glanced at the Autobot CMO and snarked, “Control freak…” Which was met with complete apathy from the mech in question and emphatic nods from everyone else in the base sans Switchshade.

            Despite his desire to pester Ratchet with pleas for information regarding Lord Prime’s fight, Switchshade knew that it would be difficult to pull the medic from the projects, let alone convince him to potentially distract the Lord Prime with a comm., while avoiding giving away any details that he should not have known of. Settling for patience, with the reassurance that Ratchet would be given warning if Lord Prime’s life signal were to offline, the black mech returned to his unobtrusive pacing.

            Nearly half a solar cycle later, (Cliffjumper, Arcee, and Bulkhead had taken the humans to school so that they could present ‘their’ projects several earth hours ago), Lord Prime commed Ratchet and commanded that a groundbridge be opened to their location. The mission was a success. As they stepped through, Switchshade’s optics widened as he noticed Bumblebee leaning on Lord Prime, and without thought the black mech moved to support the scout’s other side. Careful not to even brush against Lord Prime’s supporting servos opposite him, Switchshade focused on helping balance Bumblebee as they eased him to the base’s medbay. Ratchet quickly took over, millennia of experience in handling wounded mechs enabling him to hoist and maneuver Bumblebee’s frame without causing any further damage or pain with ease.

            “Bumblebee, putting yourself at risk was perhaps not the wisest of strategies, but you performed admirably.” Switchshade’s optics widened in surprise, for what had begun as seeming chastisement now sounded much more like praise. Praise for a job well-done was nearly unheard of on the Nemesis. If your work was unsatisfactory, you were punished for it accordingly. If it was sufficient, you were left alone. To be praised for simply performing one’s duty seemed… odd, if not entirely unpleasant. Ratchet helped the wounded ‘Bot to the repair unit just past the medbay berths, and flipped a switch to release a cloud of repair nanites over the scout’s frame as Lord Prime spoke.

            A half-klik later, the process was complete, and Bumblebee stepped out, almost entirely recovered as the nanites completes any hairline fissures that the medic may have missed. He whirred and beeped in response to Lord Prime’s praise, a modest comment stating that he was pleased to have done well, and that he would have acted so again, if doing so ensured the safety of his team. The sudden screeching of tires came from the common area, and Ratchet immediately perked up in excitement, the normally gruff old medic grinning once again as he hurried out to meet the returning ‘Bots and humans, exclaiming, “Ah ha ha! There you are!”

            Miko climbed out of Bulkhead, Raf copying her as he moved from Cliffjumper in ‘Bee’s absence, and Jack swung off of Arcee. “Well?” the CMO demanded, clearly too eager to hear how his- erm… the humans’ projects had gone over, to wait even a klik longer. “How were my- uh, _our_ projects received?” The humans glanced at each other hesitantly, before Raf ventured, “Well…” And then Miko launched into a vivid description of just how, exactly, everything that could have gone wrong did.

            The medic’s characteristic gruffness returned with full force, as he crossed his arms and grumbled, “Well. On our planet, you would have been awarded the highest honors!” And then, more to himself than anyone in particular, he muttered, “Absolutely no gratitude… See if I help them…” as he wandered off. Lord Prime had stood slightly behind him as he grumbled, his faceplates smooth of any emotion, although there was a suspicious twinkle of amusement in his optics as he watched the medic storm off in a huff.

            Switchshade sidled away from Lord Prime almost instinctively, following Ratchet for lack of anything better to do, although the medic didn’t go far, stopping when he reached the main computer in the common area. The black mech shuffled around so as to be able to see the entrance to the base as well as the Prime, and then settled in leaning against the wall closest to Ratchet as Bumblebee approached the Prime and beeped a comment that Switchshade prayed the medic did not catch. Lord Prime, entirely deadpan, responded, “Indeed, Bumblebee. Our human friends would have been wise to stray from Ratchet’s path.” Switchshade fought desperately to keep from laughing, knowing that he should not reveal that he possessed the knowledge to understand the jest, but greatly amused despite himself because of it. _Who knew Lord Prime had a sense of humor?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, one more thing I had forgotten. Someone on another site, (guest, I think) had asked if I was planning to deviate from canon or to simply throw Switchshade in for the ride. Easy answer: yes. Ha. I plan to follow canon as closely as possible, but I kept Cliffjumper alive, and the odds are good that Switchshade's not going to be on board with the whole 'Let's plant a bomb/virus in Laserbeak' plan, or worse yet, the 'Let's send Soundwave to the Shadowzone... forever!' plan, so the odds are good that canon will be altered but hopefully not completely butchered.


	21. A Venture of Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, my sincerest gratitude for all the awesome comments! I hope you all enjoy this next chapter!

            The rest of that solar cycle passed rather quickly. Taking care to avoid catching anymech’s attention, Switchshade found himself quite enjoying the feelings of comfort and family that nearly emanated through the base. After complaining loudly and pointedly within Ratchet’s hearing for some time, Miko had settled down with Rafael and Bumblebee to play a form of earth amusement that she dubbed ‘video games’. Bulkhead stood nearby, offering commentary and jesting with the humans as they played. Nearby, Arcee and Jack were animatedly debating the pros and cons of human mating habits, or in Jack’s terms, ‘dating’. It would seem Arcee wasn’t entirely convinced on the wisdom of Jack’s ideas of how to attract a suitable mate, and Switchshade gladly left them to it. The dark mech, instead, remained near to Ratchet, who was still clearly disgruntled about the results of his ‘help’ to the humans, and was grumbling under his breath for over a joor.

            Lord Prime, for his part, had vanished some time ago, only to turn up once again a shot time later and join Ratchet at the computers, speaking quietly of strategy and tactics with his CMO. Deciding, despite his more than generous treatment, that he had no business listening in on such conversations uninvited, Switchshade quietly retreated from their general vicinity, feeling almost lost as he wandered away. Not halfway across the room, he nearly collided with Cliffjumper, distracted as he was, and it was only a quick side-step and a clawed servo flung out for balance that saved him from literally crashing into the red mech. The racer grinned a little too brightly, clearly making an escape of his own as Jack threw a not-so-subtle remark regarding Cliff at Arcee when she teased him about _his_ love life, making the femme blush and the red mech retreat instantly.

            “Cliffjumper, Lord Optimus commanded that I speak with you regarding living quarters this evening…? I- he said that my-the cell, was unsatisfactory. If you have a moment, would you mind please-” Cliffjumper interrupted instantly, that bright grin still plastered on his faceplates as he declared loudly and cheerfully, “Sure thing, my mech! One free berthroom, coming right up! Just follow me.” Switchshade was forced to lengthen his stride to keep pace with the nearly sprinting racer, making it out of the common area and down a different hall in record time. “So, seeing as how this was a human missile base before we moved in, the berths are kind of makeshift, although we were able to come pretty close to replications of what we used to have on Cybertron. The rooms are human-sized, though, so it might be a bit cramped.”

            As he spoke, Cliff showed Switchshade to one of the empty rooms, a spare berth already in place in case any stragglers or neutrals showed up in need of safety for a night. Switchshade suppressed a smile when he glanced around his new chamber, the size nearly identical to that of his own private chambers on the Nemesis, and instead nodded his helm in thanks to Cliffjumper. “I am grateful for your aid, and your kindness.” The red mech just nodded in return, a bemused look on his faceplates as he said, “No need to be so formal here, ‘Switch. It’s jus’ me.” With another grin and a wave, the red mech moved out of the room, eyeing the hall to the main room with some distaste before looking back at the black mech. “Hey ‘Switch, question for ya. I was just gonna leave you to get settled in, but… Well. The others are all _busy_ and whatnot, so what say you and I play a game?”

            Switchshade cycled his optics in surprise. _A game_? On the Nemesis, he knew that many of the vehicons were fond of several games, both of Cybertronian and earth origins, and that what little free time was granted them was often spent in such pursuits. The only ‘games’ Switchshade had ever played, however, had been while he was a sparkling, and had decided to run and hide from the casseticons when Soundwave was working. They would give him several kliks to start running, and then give chase. Frenzy was uncannily good at guessing where he might choose to hide, although Ravage could sniff him out within Astroclicks. Rumble and Laserbeak rarely found him first, although when they did, they made quite a ruckus of their success. Once he had been caught, the victorious symbiote would drag their prize back to Soundwave’s berth, and snuggles would ensue. Such games often ended in what the humans might deem a ‘puppy pile’, with Switchshade cuddled under several warm and comforting casseticons. The memory files of such times were some of the happiest of his life, even now so many vorns later.

            Shaking his helm to clear it, he looked back up at Cliffjumper, the red mech eyeing him curiously as he waited for an answer. “I… must admit, I do not know many games. If you are willing to teach me, however, I would be most grateful to learn.” The racer’s optics lit up, and his smile widened. “Great! Come with me.” He lead to way to another set of chambers, these identical to that which he had given to Switchshade, save for the odd bits of junk scattered around the room at random. “Welcome to my domain!” Cliff declared happily, gesturing with a sweep of a servo at the messy room. Odd feathers, uniquely colored rocks, old human newspapers, and a broken bottle were only some of the pieces of junk placed at random about the room, and Switchshade carefully watched his pedes as he attempted to navigate the maze, wondering why by the Allspark Cliffjumper would need such things.

            “Just take a seat anywhere, yeah?” Cliff commanded, before turning to reach up on a shelf, retrieving an ancient looking set of Praxus Fold ‘Em with another bright smile. Switchshade’s optics widened. Rumble and Frenzy had been inordinately fond of the game, often gambling unpleasant shifts and duties as well as the rare energon treat as chips in their games. Soundwave had been amused, then exasperated, and had finally settled on resignation as the twins had learned of the game and fallen in love, never to look back. “I know that look. You’ve played _this_ before, at least, right?”

            Switchshade shook his helm. Despite the twins’ cajoling, he had never actually taken part in a game, after Ravage had warned him of the likelihood of being swindled. Like his adoptive sire, Switchshade had a dangerous sweet denta, and never wanted to risk losing one of his precious energon goodies to the twins. “I have seen it played, but never partaken myself. I fear… I do not have anything to wager…” But Cliffjumper shook his head cheerfully. “No worries, mech. We’ll just play for fun… _for now_.”

            After an initial rocky start, as Switchshade attempted to refresh his memories of the game, and to learn each rule and nuance, the game began in earnest, and soon several joors had passed without their notice. It was only when a firm knocking came at the door to Cliffjumper’s chambers that Switchshade realized how much time had escaped, and he shook his helm, bemused but pleased at how the evening had progressed. When the red mech answered the door, Arcee stood before him, a small smile on her faceplates as she met his optics with a gentle look in her own. “We took the humans home a little while ago, and everyone else decided to retire for the night. You should probably consider getting some recharge as well.”

            Cliffjumper nodded, a conflicted and almost nervous tint to his own optics, but then Arcee glanced behind him, and all traces of gentleness fled her gaze, though there was no hostility in her voice when she spoke. “Switchshade.” He bowed his helm slightly in acknowledgement before carefully sliding past her frame in the doorway, nearly bolting to his own chambers and closing the door behind himself quickly. Settling onto the surprisingly comfortable berth, Switchshade offlined his optics and prepared to defrag, his processor humming with warmth and gratitude at the thought of Cliffjumper’s kind and unexpected venture of friendship.


	22. Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to be going on a short trip for a couple days as of tomorrow. Dependent upon typically unreliable hotel Wi-Fi, there may or may not be updates. Heads up. Thanks again for the awesome comments! Enjoy!

            The next solar cycle dawned bright and clear, or so the scans of the nearby landscape revealed. Switchshade rolled easily from his berth, surprised at the lack of stiffness in his joints and seams after a good night’s recharge on a comfortable surface. It was later in the earth day than the black mech had realized, for when he emerged from his new chambers, the humans were in their learning facilities, and Bulkhead and Bumblebee had left for a patrol in earth’s Arctic regions (a signal of possible Cybertronian origins had come up), as Ratchet informed him the moment he stepped into the common area. The CMO also graciously offered the whereabouts of Lord Prime (conversing long-distance with Agent Fowler regarding earth relations and damage control), and Cliffjumper and Arcee (standard proximity patrol).

            The medic turned back to his computers after explaining all of this briefly, clearly having anticipated questions, and then waved a servo at the nearby energon storage unit without Switchshade having ever said a word. “Ratchet, are you-” Frowning, the medic turned to face the ex-‘Con with one of his famous glares, making the dark mech retreat instinctively. “ _Primus_ help me, but if you ask me one more time if I am certain that _I don’t want you starving yourself_ then I will force feed you energon until your levels pass 100%. Are we clear?” Not daring to speak, though any fear he might have felt was instantly negated by the clear affection and concern in the medic’s field, and his reticence was now born merely of good judgment, Switchshade simply nodded rapidly. He quickly moved to the energon storage unit and retrieved a cube of basic midgrade, the only variety that the Autobots appeared to be in possession of. _Although, I suppose, if I had any high-grade to safeguard, I certainly would not leave it anywhere near the vicinity of others who could access it…_

            Shrugging it off, grateful simply to be given the good-quality energon despite his uncertain status, Switchshade quickly drained the cube under Ratchet’s watchful optics, the medic nodding shortly in approval before turning back to his calculations, ever-grumbling under his breath. The younger mech grinned before moving to stand beside and just slightly behind the medic, careful to stay out of his way and quiet.  Watching with curious optics nonetheless as millennia of sharply-honed skills were put to work, Switchshade found himself grateful for the chance to observe a mech as old and clever as Ratchet working, even if in a field that was not his primary skill-set. For his part, the Hatchet made no protests, seemingly glad that, for once, if someone had to be nearby as he worked, at least they were capable of not making half the racket that perhaps Miko might make.

            The remainder of the solar cycle was remarkably quiet, the two younger humans remaining away from the base as their guardians were several thousand earth miles away, and Jack busy at his part-time job. Cliffjumper and Arcee came back after a long patrol, both with a curious flush of energon in their faceplates and very carefully not looking at each other. They stood around for an awkward moment of silence before shockingly, the femme offered Switchshade the opportunity to join them in a race on the nearby terrain. “It beats sitting around the base all day, and there is little else we can do until ‘Bee and ‘Bulk get back with the intel on that signal. What do you say?” Arcee’s voice was much warmer and friendlier than it had ever been of yet while directed at Switchshade, and though the medic glanced at him in clear permission, the black mech was still too nervous to dare accept. “I am very grateful for the offer, Arcee, but I fear I do not feel up to a race just now. However, I have little doubt that you can easily outpace Cliffjumper-”

            “Hey!”

            “-and should, therefore, have an enjoyable race on your servos nonetheless.” An often-suppressed glint of mischief rose within his spark then, and before he could think better of it the young mech added, “Besides, I’d hate to intrude. ‘Three’s a crowd’, or so the humans claim…” The intentionally suggestive glyphs he attached to the words left little doubt as to his meaning, and the flush of energon that had only just been starting to fade suddenly came back with a vengeance. “Of… course. We’ll just… let you know who wins then, eh?” Switchshade turned his helm away to hide his grin at Cliffjumper almost stuttering, before the two almost instantly transformed again and took off once more.

            Switchshade was more than content to settle in once more and continue to watch Ratchet work, but instead, the moment the two ‘Bots had left once more, the medic turned from the computer to face Switchshade with concern and curiosity in his optics. “You could have gone with them, you know. She really is trying to… well. Actions on both sides were justified and understandable, given the circumstances, but I believe Arcee might feel slightly guilty for how harshly she treated you these past several cycles.”

            The black mech stared at the medic, aghast, wondering if he was being mocked. “ _Harshly_? Arcee has never laid a servo on me. Pit, she never even raised her vocalizer for more than a klik or two. What do you…?” Ratchet stared right back at his response, before his faceplates tightened as if in pain, and two strong, blunt fingers came up to pinch the top of his nasal bridge. “ _Primus give me strength_ ” the medic muttered, though there was clearly no reverence in his tone. “She just- by Autobot standards, Arcee has behaved… acceptably, but still rather hostilely toward you. She did not harm you physically, because that is not how Autobots handle conflicts amongst ourselves, but the way in which she has spoken to and interacted with you has been, by her standards, ‘harsh’. Her offer just now was, perhaps, an attempt to make amends.”

            “Oh… I- I understand…” _I don’t understand…_ “But, even if her offer was genuine, I still- I’d still like to stay here. I enjoy watching you work. If, that is… If I’m not bothering you? I apologize if this is so, I never meant to impede your work, I simply… It is clear, that you have wisdom and experience befitting your age, and to be given the chance to observe first-hand such talents at work, it is… well. I am grateful, but more than willing to move if I am obstructing you in any way.”

            Ratchet, instead of appearing displeased or in any way inclined to tell the younger mech to get lost, simply appeared flattered and rather pleased, muttering, “Hmm… Nice to know when one’s talents are appreciated, after all. I don’t mind, if you’d really rather be cooped up in here with a rickety old medic like me rather than racing outside with those _sparklings_.” And then, quieter and under his breath, (and Switchshade rather doubted he was meant to overhear), the medic mumbled, “ _Can’t say as I blame you, though. Those two are enough to drive anyone mad with their… what is it the humans call it? UST? Hmph_ …”

            A quick and risky human internet search later, and Switchshade’s whole frame shook with silent laughter, optics welling as he struggled to contain his mirth. Ratchet noticed, realized he had not only been heard but understood, and turned away again. His self-control was impeccable enough to keep him from outright losing it as the younger mech was, but there was no way for the medic to contain a wicked half-grin from crossing his faceplates in shared amusement.

            It seemed as if no time at all had passed when Bulkhead called in the request for a groundbridge, declaring that Bumblebee had located the source of the signal. Instantly after ‘bridging them back, Ratchet demanded that they set down the large pod they had unearthed and submit to a medical exam immediately. Both ‘Bots yielded easily enough, although Bulkhead was not above complaining, but Switchshade found himself distracted from their banter as he eyed the oddly familiar-looking pod. _Now where in the Pit have I seen something like that before?_


	23. Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annndddd there’s Wi-Fi! Ta-daa! Have another chapter to celebrate. (And thanks for the wonderful comments and whatnot!)

 

            “I told you, doc, we’re fine!” Bulkhead’s irritated grumbling had absolutely no effect on the medic whatsoever, who simply pushed the much larger Wrecker back down easily when he tried to stand and flee, stating, “The only way to be certain you’re fine, Bulkhead, is to endure standard de-frosting procedure. _You_ know prolonged exposure to subzero conditions can cause permanent system damage!” Switchshade grinned half-heartedly at the cowed expression on Bulkhead’s faceplates, but he continued to glance back over towards the familiar pod-like device. Something tickled at the back of his processor, some crucial piece of information that he somehow just _knew_ was incredibly important, and yet he could not bring up the memory file of why this object was so familiar to him. _Déjà vu, the humans might say_ …

            “Ratchet.” Lord Prime’s deep voice startled the dark mech, causing a minute flinch as Switchshade hurried to move out of the way. “Have you learned anything more about our Arctic find?” The moment Switchshade was out of Lord Prime’s path, he circled back around again to eye the pod once again. _By the Allspark, where do I know this from? There is something here, some crucial fact of vital importance I cannot see. But what?!_

            In response to Lord Prime’s query, the medic finally moved away from Bulkhead, causing the Wrecker to surreptitiously heave a sigh of relief, as the CMO answered, “Not yet.” He moved to stand by the computer screen that showed the specs of the strange object, continual scans running in an attempt to determine its function. “The pod can’t be opened while it’s frozen solid.”

            “Maybe we should go back-” Bulkhead began, before the Hatchet whirled and fixed him with a glare identical to the one shown to Switchshade earlier that very cycle. “Don’t even think about it. Your frame cannot withstand much more frigid temperatures, and going back into the arctic is the _last_ thing you should be doing just now!” Cliffjumper, who was standing next to Bumblebee (he and Arcee had returned from their _race_ in much livelier spirits, although they refused to speak at all of where, exactly, they had gone or what they had done), smirked at the last comment of the medic’s, and murmured to ‘Bee, “I would’ve guessed that the _last_ thing Bulkhead should be doing right now is calling up ‘Screamer and asking him to sing him a lullaby, but maybe that’s just me…” Bumblebee whirred a laugh, bending forwards in amusement, even as the Hatchet, without so much as a backwards glance, scooped up a wrench that had been lying on a shelf nearby, and hurled it over his shoulder. The resulting ‘clang’ and pained, “Hey!”were clear indicators that the projectile had hit its mark.

            Sullenly running a soothing servo over his helm, Cliffjumper grumbled something indistinguishable under his breath, but the words ‘power-crazed mad-mech’, and ‘danger to himself and others’ were clearly discernable amongst the mix. When he turned to Arcee with pleading optics, the femme smirked and shoved him affably in the shoulderplates, stating blithely, “It isn’t as if you didn’t ask for it. Don’t look to me for pity when you know full well you deserved it.” She looked over at Bumblebee and Bulkhead for a moment, and then back at the pod. “What if I go? We really should try to get some more information about the origins of the pod, if we can, and going back to where it was first located is at least a possible option that might yield some answers. If it’s dangerous for ‘Bulk and ‘Bee to go back again so soon, then why shouldn’t I?”

            As she spoke, Bulkhead and Bumblebee made good on the CMO’s distraction, sneaking away quickly and muttering something about finding the humans before transforming and tearing away from the base as fast as their tires could go. Ratchet’s attention was focused on Arcee, however, and he considered her suggestion for a moment, and then nodded his helm grudgingly. “It should be fine, so long as you are not in the subzero temperatures for over-long periods of time. Go in, collect what intel you can, and then call for a groundbridge immediately. I don’t need any casualties on my servos.”

            “No.” Switchshade, still standing carefully out of the way, near the wall, cowered back without thought at the single word from Lord Prime, before he caught himself and stood still, realizing it was not he who was being addressed. “While I agree that more intel should be gathered, you should not go so far alone, Arcee. Not now, while we are still uncertain of Starscream’s movements. I will accompany you.” The femme glanced at the Prime, and then nodded, her respect for Optimus and trust in his judgment far too great for any protest with such a simple command. “Let me come, too. Least I can do is help scan. ‘Shade and Ratch’ can man the ‘bridge while ‘Bee and Bulkhead human-sit.” Cliffjumper said, strolling over to stand beside Arcee, previous pretended foul mood entirely forgotten as he grinned brightly.

Optimus’ optics flickered around the base once before landing fully on Cliffjumper. A tiny light of amusement lit his optics when he glanced between the red mech and the blue femme several times, though his faceplates and voice were as grave as ever when he spoke. “So be it. Ratchet, open the groundbridge to Bulkhead and Bumblebee’s last coordinates. Arcee, Cliffjumper and I will search for any clue which might explain the origin of our Arctic find.”

            The medic obeyed, and soon the groundbridge was opened and glowing, even as the CMO set a sensor to monitor each ‘Bot’s core temperatures. “Only until your sensors sound.” He warned sharply. Even now, Ratchet’s complete willingness (and even eagerness, at times) to boss around everymech in the base, even _Lord Prime_ , was a shock to Switchshade, although he found himself much less nervous, now, for the medic’s safety. For some reason, Lord Prime seemed unwilling to physically punish in any way, and indeed it was a very rare occasion that he even verbally took someone to task. “Remember, once your core temperature drops into the blue zone, system failures aren’t ‘likely’, they’re _imminent_.”

            A moment of contemplative silence fell over the base, the only sound the quiet humming of the groundbridge, and then the roaring of Bumblebee’s and Bulkhead’s engines sounded once more. Kliks later, the two ‘Bots pulled up, and Miko, Jack, and Raf all spilled out, grinning brightly up at the Cybertronians in the base. “Miss us, doc-bot?” Miko asked happily, leaning on Bulkhead. The medic groaned, the sound reminiscent to one a mech might make in great agony, before he grumbled, “Shouldn’t they be in school?” to no one in particular. Bulkhead and Bumblebee transformed back into their root modes, not over-exerted in the slightest, despite the exceedingly rapid speeds at which they had driven to reach the humans and return to the base in the time that they had.

            “On _Saturday_?” the disgust in Miko’s voice made it plain that the thought of having to attend school on a Saturday was worse than an abomination to her. “We have the whole weekend off-to spend with you!” She smiled brightly at Ratchet again, knowing full well the old medic’s exasperation, and far from being discouraged, the tiny human was quite inspired to continue.

            “I wasn’t expecting to carpool. What gives, Arcee?” Jack asked curiously, stepping away from Bumblebee with a tiny wave of thanks. “Tag team, Jack. It’s my turn for ‘exploration duty’.” The eldest of the humans smiled a bit, but shrugged in acceptance. “Ah. Too bad, it’s a beautiful day for a ride.” Then, his smile turned mischievous, and he continued, “I’d hate for you to feel guilty, for leaving me indoors…” The femme raised an optic ridge. “ _Arctic_ exploration duty.” Instantly, the human swiveled on his feet, turning to begin to walk away as he hastily finished, “Indoors, where it’s warm!”

            “The Arctic? I’ve always wanted to see snow.” Rafael stated, moving forwards to speak with Arcee as Optimus waited patiently behind her. Switchshade watched curiously as Lord Prime spoke with great gentleness to the youngest of the humans. “I would invite you to join, Rafael, but the conditions are much too extreme, even for we Autobots.” Raf was hardly disheartened, however, merely mildly disappointed as he shrugged. “I… understand” he admitted, before he turned to follow Bumblebee.

            “But, I will bring you back a snowball.” Switchshade’s optics widened in complete shock at the unexpected and spontaneous offer, made by a _Prime_ to a _human_ , even as Raf turned to look back at Optimus with another happy smile. “That would be awesome!” The youngest human declared, delighted, watching avidly as the Prime and the femme moved through the groundbridge and vanished from sight.

            Ratchet watched as well, a hastily-hidden grin at Optimus’ promise quickly wiped from his own faceplates as he reached over to shut down the groundbridge, stating, “Transport complete.” The instant the tip of his servo made contact with the lever to power down the groundbridge, however, the blast of a sudden explosion from within the device forced the medic back a pace with its force. “By the Allspark!” Ratchet exclaimed in shock, and a fraction of an Astroclick later, Switchshade stood less than a human foot from the medic, between him and the explosion site, shocked and wary red optics quickly scanning the CMO’s frame for any signs of damage from the unexpected explosion.

            “I’m fine, Switchshade, just surprised, that’s all. Let me see, let me see…” Ratchet muttered, overcoming his surprise quickly as he stepped around the still shell-shocked ex-‘Con, and began to examine the groundbridge controls. _That could have been worse-at least Ratchet is unharmed. … Primus! Lord Prime and Arcee will be stranded in the Arctic!_


	24. The First Scraplet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One quick point I should mention- In the last sentence of the last chapter, it should have been Optimus, Arcee, and Cliffjumper who would be stranded in the Arctic, etc. I wrote it really late at night and neglected to read over it again before posting, so… yeah. I’ll probably try to change it soon, but I’m kind of lazy, so if it doesn’t get changed, just know that Cliffjumper is still with them. Also, my gratitude to everyone’s who’s read/stuck with this story so far, and my sincerest thanks to all my faithful readers/comment-ers. Please know that I read and cherish every single comment, as they are always really encouraging and inspire me to write more. Even ones with criticism (constructive) are appreciated, because I know that you took the time to actually read and think about how this could be improved, which means quite a lot to me as well. As always, I’m writing this as I go, so I’m fairly open to suggestions regarding what you might like to see in upcoming chapters. I still plan to parallel canon fairly closely (for now), but any little things you might like to see in the future I’d be happy to take into consideration. Enjoy!

 

            Ratchet, of course, had immediately come to the same conclusion, instantly focusing on the groundbridge’s control system with great intensity, clearly knowing the stakes. Miko had no such compunctions, however, simply shrugging when she saw that the explosion hadn’t harmed anyone in the immediate vicinity and strolling over to the human-sized television. At her query of what they wanted to do, ‘Bee suggested a video game tournament, which Raf and the others were more than excited to do, but then the CMO called, “Bulkhead! Bumblebee! Here. Now.”

            Reluctantly, the Wrecker and the scout obeyed, leaving the humans to their games as they made their way to Ratchet. Bulkhead grumbled something about being bossed around, but Ratchet ignored it easily, snarling, “I need some heavy lifting. The groundbridge is down.” Bumblebee began to realize the severity of the situation as well, immediately asking after the three ‘Bots who had just gone through the portal. “Optimus, Arcee, and Cliffjumper made it through just fine, it’s bringing them _back_ that concerns me. Now, remove those panels. Chop chop!”

            Finally realizing what, exactly, would occur if they failed to repair the ‘bridge in time, the ‘Bots immediately set to it with a will, Switchshade immediately moving to help where he could as well. Several kliks later, the power in the base flickered, and Switchshade looked up from where he was helping Bulkhead to carry away one of the floor panels that covered the circuitry of the groundbridge. Ratchet didn’t even seem to notice the power failure, instead reaching down to lift one of the damage circuit boards with grave optics. “We most definitely have a problem. What could have caused this?” The piece of tech had literal bite marks in it, and the familiarity of the shape stirred something in Switchshade’s memory files.

            _That shape… and… **Primus** , the pod! _“Ratchet!” The medic didn’t appear to have heard him, instead muttering something about the main grid as he pondered how to fix the damaged circuitry. “ _Ratchet!!_ ” The mech in question finally turned in surprise to look at Switchshade, who was nearly shaking on his pedes, and Ratchet immediately moved towards him as if to offer comfort, but they were all distracted when Rafael’s cheerful voice pulled their attention to the youngest human. “Hey guys, look what I found!”

            “We’re _busy_ \- Ahh!” Ratchet quite literally screamed in horror, and Switchshade felt his spark gutter. With growing dread, he turned to look at what Rafael held, and all his fears were confirmed at the sight of one of the Pit-slagged _scraplets_ nestled comfortably in his arms. His processor shorted out, the black mech jumping without thought towards the nearest tall object, namely Bulkhead, and climbing up onto the green mech’s shoulderplating, crouching in terror as the Autobots immediately backed up, blasters charging and cries of shock and fright in their vocalizers.

            A tiny fraction of Switchshade’s processor registered that Miko and Jack had run to shield Rafael from the lethal Cybertronian weapons pointed at him, and the clear fear and concern in the tiny humans’ eyes, but the great majority was far too focused on the deadly, tiny abomination in such close proximity. Later, when he looked back on that moment, he would feel only shame at what his mindless fear led him to do, for in that instant, his own blades were lifted in aggression towards the humans.

            “Hey, hey! What’s with you guys?!” Miko demanded, standing in front of Raf beside Jack as they lifted their hands defensively. Bulkhead, not even seeming to notice the black mech clinging onto his shoulderplates, cried, “Scraplet! _Scraplet_!” Raf peeked out cautiously if curiously from behind the two older humans, asking, “What’s a ‘scraplet’?”

            Switchshade dropped down lithely from Bulkhead’s shoulderplates when Ratchet began to answer, still terrified of the little menace in Raf’s arms, but beginning to realize that dealing with the problem need not include cowering in fear atop a Wrecker’s shoulderplating. “The most dangerous vermin ever to crawl upon the face of Cybertron.” Ratchet snarled in response to Raf’s question, though his disgust was clearly not aimed toward the human, but rather the tiny metal creature held in his arms.

            Jack and Miko relaxed slightly at that, standing straighter as they came out of their protective crouches around Raf, and Jack even chuckled, once, in bemusement. “This? Are you kidding me?” he asked, gesturing at the innocent-looking _Spawn-of-Unicron_ held by Raf. “You’re giant robots!” Miko pitched in, “Scrappy here is… teeny.”

            Switchshade moved to Bulkhead’s other side, keeping a close optic on the ‘teeny’ menace, as the Wrecker answered his human in a panic. “You have no idea the damage that _teeny_ thing can do!” Rafael looked up at the four mechs still standing in defensive postures, weapons charged and at the ready despite no longer being pointed directly at the humans, and his mouth twisted. “Aw… he wouldn’t hurt anything!” the youngest human protested, _stroking_ the little fiend.

            “Rafael, don’t-!” It was too late, Switchshade realized, even as he tried to warn the human, for his touch had awoken the scraplet, and it immediately onlined, recognized new prey, and activated, an unholy whirring noise coming from its maw as it began its attack. Bumblebee immediately opened fire, taking care to avoid the humans while desperately trying to down the beast before it reached them, but to no avail. It dodged three blasts in quick succession before leaping and latching onto the scout’s pede, deadly fangs instantly digging deep and consuming copious amounts of yellow armor. Bumblebee stumbled and fell back in his haste to try to avoid the creature, and even made a desperate grab for it, succeeding in pulling it away from his pede only to have it set in on his arm plating.

            He quickly knocked it off of him, and the tiny monster instantly whirred louder, clearly rallying for a second attack, when it was stopped by _Rafael_ of all people, as the young human set to destroying the scraplet he had so recently been cuddling with a will. The moment Ratchet was certain the menace was deactivated, he knelt by the scout’s feet, Bumblebee still sitting where he had fallen, as Switchshade and Bulkhead moved to brace the yellow mech on either side. The medic, meanwhile, was looking over the damage with a worried look in his optics.

“I’m sorry Bumblebee!” Raf exclaimed, rushing over to his Autobot guardian with guilt and sorrow in his gaze, but the scout managed to whirr reassuringly that it was in no way the human’s fault, and that he shouldn’t feel bad for what had happened. Full blame lay upon the scraplet, and the scraplet alone.

“I-Is he gonna be ok?!” Raf asked of Ratchet, clearly terrified that he had, however inadvertently, lead to his guardian’s becoming gravely injured. “Only a mesh wound-he’ll live.” Ratchet declared, the concern fading only slightly from his optics as he straightened up to look at the humans again. “Now do you believe me?” Bulkhead demanded of them, gesturing at the damage only a klik or so had done to Bumblebee. “ _All_ scraplets do is dismantle machinery and eat _anything_ metal! Especially living metal!”

Jack, in a naïve attempt to be optimistic, said with a shrug, “Well, bug squashed, game over. Right?”

“No! When it comes to scraplets, there’s never just _one_. And I fear I know how they got in here…” Switchshade felt a swooping feeling of dread and guilt sweep over him, as he realized just why, exactly, that pod had seemed so familiar earlier. _This is all my fault… If I had just realized what it was earlier, Bumblebee would not be injured, the base would not be in danger, and we could have destroyed the pod with all the scraplets in it before they ever became active again. Primus above! The scraplets were the cause of the groundbridge malfunction too, which means that if Lord Prime, Cliffjumper, and Arcee perish in the Arctic with no way to return, their deaths will be upon **my** helm as well!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I haven't forgotten the request to see Optimus get angry/Switchshade think its directed at him when it is not. I hope to work that in in one of the upcoming episodes, I just haven't found a good spot for it yet.))


	25. The Hunt Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Switchshade’s in a Very-Not-Good state of mind in this chapter for a bit, and while it will all get resolved in the end, there are some very Not-Good thoughts that he has (all of which are entirely unfounded, but he’s feeling guilty and guilt does some sketchy stuff sometimes). It is important to note two things however. 1, the italics as Switchshade’s thoughts are just that, his thoughts, and none of the humans or Autobots have any idea what’s going on in his head-he gets his repression tactics from his sire. 2, things will get better, he will realize it’s not his fault, and even if it was, that misplaced guilt is not the way to go about fixing the problem. However, I’d like to think they’re enough like us that none of them are entirely faultless either, so count this impromptu pity-party as one of Switchshade’s faults, if you’d like. If I could write a perfect character (spoiler alert: I can’t! ;) ) I probably wouldn’t anyway. Everyone has faults, and so here is one of his… Yeah. Thanks once more for everyone who’s read/commented/etc. Always greatly appreciated!

 

            Stunned by the realization of what, exactly, now rested on his shoulderplates, Switchshade bowed his helm in grief. _This was my fault…_ He followed Ratchet with a heavy spark as the medic led the way to the pod. Their fears were realized as they came upon the empty shell, and wary nervousness lit in all four Cybertronians’ optics. “It’s a trap-a scraplet trap” the medic announced, his normally gruff voice even more rough than usual in an effort to hide his fear. “Uh… an _empty_ scraplet trap…” Bulkhead pointed out needlessly, drawing his servos and plating closer to his frame defensively.

            Watching the Wrecker out of the corner of his eye, Switchshade felt the floor spinning beneath his pedes at the sight of Bulkhead displaying behaviors that he himself had adopted not long ago in an attempt to make himself feel even marginally safer when faced with a deadly threat.

            “Most likely ejected into space eons ago, only to wind up in the Arctic, where the temperature kept them in stasis.” Ratchet muttered, activating a light on the tip of his servo as he carefully looked into the now-empty pod. The ex’-Con wanted to step forward, wanted to claim the guilt that he knew rested rightfully on his helm, but Jack beat him to it. “Until we brought the thaw…” With one, simple sentence, the human had taken the blame for this cluster-frag, and had spread it upon them all, just for bringing the pod back to the base. _This was of Decepticon make. Pit, I slagging watched Starscream and Shockwave **design** a similar trap in the early stages of the war. Why, **why** could I not realize what this was sooner?_

Unaware of the black mech’s inner turmoil, the humans continued the conversation, as Miko spoke up, “Now they’re wide awake and ready to brunch…” A moment of silence fell over the base, and then Raf asked the room at large, “So… how many are we talking about?” Switchshade heaved an ex-vent, murmuring guiltily at the same time as Ratchet’s grumble,

“Thousands.”

“Thousands, at best. I-” he cut himself off, but the medic simply waved him to continue, and Switchshade hesitated for a klik before doing so. “I… have no great personal experience with such traps, but this one was of Decepticon make. There would have been a minimum of three thousand scraplets contained in this single pod, and even a fraction of that number would be sufficient to cause unimaginable levels of damage.”

Switchshade tried to continue, to apologize for his terrible failure in neglecting to recognize the threat sooner, but once again he found the words stuck in his vocalizer, and before he could clear the static, Ratchet was nodding his agreement. “And the power malfunctions and groundbridge damage are sure signs that their infestation is well on their way.”

Surprisingly, there was no rebuke, no hidden anger in the medic’s words that Switchshade could detect. The frustrated rage that permeated the base was focused solely on the scraplets and the damage they had caused. _For now… Once this threat has been removed, perhaps then blame will find me. As it should._

The CMO hurried over to the computer, attempting to contact Lord Prime immediately to inform him of the circumstances, but even as he tried to get in contact, it was clear that there would be no response. Amongst the interference and static, the medic attempted to speak, “Ratchet to Optimus, do you read me? We have a situation.” The screens bearing Lord Prime’s vital stats, as well as Arcee’s and Cliffjumper’s, frizzed static for a moment as well before going dark, and Ratchet _snarled_. “The scraplets have gotten into the comm. link system. If we don’t eradicate these creatures immediately, they will reduce the entire base to a scrapheap.”

Bulkhead, ever a mech of action, was quick to pipe in, “Well I say we bug out of here and let them keep it!” Even as he spoke, the green mech was edging towards the exit doorway, Bumblebee whirring in enthusiastic agreement with the plan. Switchshade stared at them in disbelief, _do they not realize…?_ , but it was Ratchet who proceeded to quickly point out the one glaring flaw in said plan. “Evacuation is not an option. If we don’t get the groundbridge back online stat, Optimus, Cliffjumper, and Arcee _will perish_.”

The severity of the situation finally began to settle upon the two remaining mechs, as well as the three humans, and Jack’s eyes went wide with fear for his guardian/s abruptly. “They-will?” he asked desperately, shocked and horrified at the thought. Miko, for her part, channeled her fear to anger (as, Switchshade suspected, was her wont), and stalked over to Bulkhead, planting her tiny fists on her hips and fixing the Wrecker with a glare. “Bulkhead! You _never_ run!”

“Miko, you haven’t seen a swarm of these things devour a ‘Bot. I have… They pick you apart from the inside out, going for the small, juicy bits first. Fuse by fuse, circuit by circuit, ‘till there’s nothing left, and I mean _nothing_! Not even your optics…” The humans looked properly cowed by this, as the understanding of the danger the mechs were in finally began to dawn on them, but Switchshade pondered Bulkhead’s words with a darker spin. _Torn apart from the inside out… It would be little more than I deserve, for all that has happened due to my failure…_

He shook himself firmly from these thoughts, shaking his helm as well for good measure. _This will do nothing constructive now. There will be time for blame later. For now, I must do all that I can to help Ratchet get Optimus, Cliffjumper, and Arcee back safely. The scraplets must be destroyed._

It would seem Jack was thinking along similar lines, for he stepped forward when Bulkhead finished, immediately declaring, “You have to let us help.” Rafael nodded in agreement. “We’re not made of metal.” Miko joined in as well, a tiny spark of hope in her eyes that spread like wildfire amongst the three humans. “Yeah! The scraplets can’t hurt _us_!”

Ratchet eyed them in contemplation. “Typically, I find your fleshiness to be your least engaging quality… but, it would appear to provide an advantage under these extremes.” The admission seemed as though it cost the medic a great deal, although Switchshade knew even from his brief time among the Autobots that Ratchet had grown deeply fond of the humans, even going so far as to count them among his own, to be protected.

“Okay, good.” Jack nodded once, decisively, and in that instant, a glimpse showed through the skinny 16-year-old boy of the wise leader he might one day become. The moment was lost a klik later, however, when he continued. “So, we pair off-one ‘Bot, one human. I’ll watch your back while you repair the groundbridge.” Switchshade shifted closer to Ratchet as Jack spoke, silently declaring his intent to remain with the medic as he worked, and none amongst them disputed it.

“And we go on a bug hunt.” Miko declared, gesturing at Bulkhead, and herself, and then Bumblebee and Raf contentedly. The Wrecker in question shuddered in primal fear, and the scout beside him looked little better. The humans and ‘Bots paired off as suggested, and so began the scraplet hunt.


	26. When Scraplets Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to all for the awesome comments! It always makes my day to hear what you think! Enjoy.

            Bulkhead and Miko had moved off down the hallway that Rafael pointed out, explaining that he had found the first scraplet in that direction, and Bumblebee and Raf moved to search another. Switchshade remained close to Ratchet as the medic worked feverishly to complete the necessary repairs to the groundbridge. Jack stood guard, the human keeping a sharp eye out for any sign of the little monsters, but so far, none but the first had shown itself. A breem passed, and the lights flickered out once, before coming back on. A distant scream that sounded suspiciously like a terrified Bulkhead was audible, but there was no following cry for help from either Bulkhead or Miko, so the mechs and human in the common area remained focused on their mission.

            Several more kliks passed, and Switchshade found himself cursing his lack of scientific ability, as his assistant to Ratchet was greatly limited by his pitiful technological experience. He had a difficult time learning the ins and outs of a typical spacebridge, let alone Ratchet’s modified version that he had used to create the groundbridge. More muffled screams were heard as the long breems stretched, as well as weapons fire, but no SOS was sent along the comms, and the groundbridge had to remain first priority.

            Soon, the sounds of weapons fire became audible from Rafael and Bumblebee’s direction as well, and Switchshade tensed, dialing up his audials to gain a bit of advanced warning should any of the scraplets make for himself or, more importantly, Ratchet. Jack was pacing now, clearly nervous, although his human senses were too dull to pick up on the muffled blasts. “How’s it going over there?” he questioned as he paused in his pacing to glance at their progress.

            Ratchet scoffed distractedly, the majority of his focus still pinpointed on fixing the groundbridge in as little time as possible. “Ugh… I’ve repaired the damaged conductors and rerouted the central conduits, but the groundbridge still won’t receive power!” With his final word, the medic slammed a fisted servo into the flooring near his pedes where he knelt, his frustration getting the better of him for a moment. It was a testament to the gravity of the situation (as well as his steadily increasing trust of the medic) that Switchshade did not even think to flinch from the CMO’s rage.

            Not even an astroclick later, the distinctive, rapid *tick-tick-tick* noise of scraplets’ tiny clawed pedes reached Switchshade’s audials, and the black mech rose to his pedes, guarding Ratchet’s back as the medic continued to work. “Be on your guard, Jack. They draw near.” He warned the human, his usually low vocalizer rather shaky as he tried to prepare himself for battle with the tiny fiends. In response, the human gripped his makeshift weapon, a piece of metal piping, tighter and lifted in his hands, sharp eyes scanning the walls and ceiling for any sign of the approaching scraplets.

           

            A careless flick of the eyes to the far wall, and the scraplets were in sight. Switchshade tensed even further, flaring his doorwings protectively to shield more of the medic from sight as he stepped forward, drawing the attention of the mech-eating vermin away from Ratchet’s unprotected back and onto himself. Instantly, the scraplets responded to the sight of the living metal before them, multiple rows of razor sharp fangs bared and ready to tear into his frame as they began their devastating attack.

            “Whoah!” Jack exclaimed, the human still on the ‘front line’ as it were, with Switchshade behind him, and Ratchet still desperately working to finish the groundbridge repairs hidden behind both. “They fly?!” Jack demanded, as the scraplets began to do just that as they grouped up to prepare an assault. “You never said they could fly!” He began to swipe at the scraplets with his pipe, managing to take down several. Switchshade onlined his blasters, taking shots at the creatures while being very careful to avoid coming anywhere near the human. For each scraplet that fell, however, it seemed four more rose to take its place. Their numbers were unbelievable, and several had already managed to get past the black mech’s defenses, their deadly fangs tearing excruciating paths through his leg plating instantly upon contact. He gritted his denta, determined not to cry out at the agonizing pain, and flared his plating, shaking loose several, although the more tenacious ones simply dug deeper.

            He revved his engine multiple times as he continued to blast every scraplet within reach, increasing his core temperature in an attempt to burn the creatures away, but they seemed resilient to the heat, and he was forced to abandon the effort almost immediately, for fear of overheating his own core and falling to the scraplets before Ratchet could complete the groundbridge. Instead, the dark mech just steeled himself, enduring the pain as stoically as he could manage as he continued to fight for all that he was worth, managing to hold off the tiny menaces for several precious kliks, before enough of the scraplets determined that that was an even bulkier frame of living metal behind him. Within astroclicks, several of the scraplets had slipped past his defenses to attack Ratchet as well, forcing the medic to turn from his work to defend himself.

            Jack went to town on the scraplets, tearing into them viciously as he knocked several off of Switchshade. “Ratchet! Go to Ratchet!” the dark mech snarled at the human as he continued to destroy as many of the creatures as he could. Jack knocked several more from his frame before complying, running over to the medic and beginning to do the same there. “Fire extinguisher!” The medic commanded, as he struggled to hold off the swarm. “Get the fire extinguisher!”

            Switchshade was down, his pedes no longer supporting his weight, as enough of the armor plating, cables, and protoform had been eaten away so as to render them essentially useless, though he continued to use his blasters as best he could even while half-collapsed onto the ground. Fortunately, Ratchet was in slightly better condition, as the majority of the scraplets had seen Switchshade’s movements, and targeted him, and when Jack obeyed and retrieved the fire extinguisher, he was still able to move fairly well.

            The human immediately ran back to the Autobot CMO, blasting him from helm to pedes with the fire extinguisher’s froth, the substance within immobilizing the scraplets, enabling Ratchet to shake them off, and several even fell to the floor on their own. Jack quickly turned to do the same for Switchshade, who was twitching weakly several human feet away. The scraplets retreated at the sight of the fire extinguisher’s effectiveness, though it was clearly a very temporary arrangement, as Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Raf, and Miko stumbled back into the main area as well.

“Ratchet, get the patch-kit. We’re leaking energon like-whoah!” Bulkhead was cut off as he looked up and saw the massive swarm now buzzing angrily above them all, as Ratchet slowly began to pick himself up from the floor. The Wrecker’s voice had drawn the attention of the swarm, however, and the scraplets moved in to attack once again, Bumblebee and Bulkhead quickly joining Switchshade and Ratchet on the floor after a very short-lived attempt at a fight. In their defense, the humans were all doing their level best to protect the ‘Bots, but there were just so many scraplets that it was impossible for Jack, Miko, and Raf to hold them all off. Jack continued to use the fire extinguisher, having run back to Ratchet when most of the scraplets on Switchshade had been removed, though the instant he was gone, more had descended to continue devouring the black mech alive.

Many pained cries rose throughout the base, Switchshade’s among them, any thought of attempting to keep from crying out in agony long forgotten, wiped away by the sheer processor-numbing _pain_. He had passed far beyond the point of being able to lift his servos and blasters to continue to fight, and could only twitch weakly as the scraplets dug deeper and deeper into his frame. Several kliks that felt like vorns passed, and Switchshade lost sight in his left optic as the scraplets now within his armor ate through the connecting cord, the damaged, sightless optic frizzing slightly before going dark.

Suddenly, a feeling unlike anything he could have imagined registered with Switchshade, and it took him a moment to realize what it was through his shock. An absence of pain… Forcing himself to reset his single working optic, Switchshade rolled what was left of his helm to the side slightly, noting with no little astonishment that the humans had somehow managed to emerge victorious. All three Autobot warriors were down, but clearly still alive, as pained groans could be heard from their vocalizers as they sat up. Raf and Miko were beating the final couple of living scraplets into oblivion, while Jack finished off any other stragglers with the fire extinguisher.

            “We get them all?” Jack asked finally, as the last scraplet in the main room finally offlined. A distant, ominous buzzing coming from deep within the base was his only answer.


	27. Bait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felicitations malefactors! Erm… I really didn’t mean to wait this long to update, but real life happened, and I was delayed. I am extremely grateful, as ever, for all the great feedback I have gotten/have been getting on this story! I hope you all enjoy this next chapter.

 

            Switchshade felt several more of his nerve sensors stutter and then shut down, and he reset his optics several times. The damaged left optics remained offlined, but his sight in his right optic became considerably less blurry as he attempted to keep Ratchet in his line of sight. The medic had made it to his feet, his armor badly scored by the scraplets’ fangs, but more or less intact. “Hardly” The medic grumbled in response to Jack’s query, glaring in an odd mix of anger and wariness down the halls towards the source of the buzzing.

            “These were just scouts.” Switchshade felt his right optic and several of his neck cables twinge as he swung his helm around to stare in horror at Ratchet’s grim faceplates. Nearby, Bumblebee whirred a groan of dismay as he allowed his helm to fall backwards with a ‘clang’ onto the ground from his supine position. Bulkhead levered himself up to prop his frame into a half-sitting position braced on his elbow plating, blue optics staring in equal horror at the medic as he asked, “So… the rest of _them_ know we’re in here?” The Wrecker’s query was hesitant, and full of ill-concealed despair.

            The medic offered only a grim nod. “And if we allow ourselves to become their next meal, Optimus, Cliffjumper, and Arcee will never make it home.” And suddenly, in that very astroclick, Switchshade realized his damage didn’t matter. Oh, his plating was eaten away? Any sensory input from what little remained of his pedes was erratic and all but nonexistent? The agony coursing throughout his frame in general and behind his left optic in particular was unlike anything he had ever experienced save for two very… _memorable_ rages of Lord Megatron? _Tough slag-deal with it. Lord Prime, and Cliffjumper, and Arcee too, I suppose, are depending upon these mechs here, perhaps even myself, to survive. To survive, and bring them back safely. I cannot, **will** not, allow myself to fall before they are safe._

Ratchet continued speaking to Bulkhead and Bumblebee, but Switchshade was only listening with half his audials (and not entirely by choice), as the medic went on, “We _must_ get the groundbridge operational.” Switchshade was ashamed to say, that a moment of weakness overtook him then. At the desperation, the borderline panic in the gruff old medic’s voice, the black mech wanted nothing more than to call for his sire, to comm. Soundwave and beg for his aid. In that klik, he did not even care that doing so would alert all of the Decepticons as to the location of the Autobot base. That such an act would be foolish, reckless, and nearly suicidal, and could only end in further disaster. In fact, Switchshade was so perilously close to following through with his panicked idea, that he would later look back on that moment and shudder in dread to think of just how close he had come to destroying them all. It was, of all things, the thought of Laserbeak that held his glossa, so to speak. The thought of the tiny casseticon, the only symbiote of Soundwave’s who remained functioning, in anything like close proximity to the abominations of scraplets was enough to reboot his processor.

Logic returned, and the panic passed, as the black mech forced his frame to sit up, enough sensors still working throughout his chassis and arms to allow for such movement, though he dared not spare a glance towards his pedes. _I will trust in Ratchet’s wisdom._

Rafael; brilliant, insanely clever and surprisingly cool-headed little human that he was, eyed Ratchet with a musing look in his eyes, and spoke, “Then we can use it to send the scraplets _anywhere_ on earth.” The implications were clear, and Jack quickly picked up on them. “Why not back to the Arctic? We already know they don’t do cold…” Miko smiled, a glint surprisingly similar to one frequently utilized by Starscream in her wicked eyes as she stated, “Sweet! One stop shopping!” As she spoke, the human tapped her makeshift weapon in her other hand menacingly. Switchshade unobtrusively shifted himself a few inches away from the grinning human girl using only his damaged servos.

The nigh-despair in Ratchet’s optics was instantly replaced with a desperate hope, and he quickly put the pieces together, summarizing the logistics quite neatly. “Given the body mass of the scraplets, sub-zero temperature _should_ freeze them on contact. So, _think, Ratchet, think!_ If the groundbridge is still down, there must be a breach in the energon fuel line!” This last sentence was delivered with a manic light in his optics, and Switchshade silently bemoaned his currently extremely limited mobility which prevented him from retreating any further.

Still, the hope seemed contagious, and even though Switchshade couldn’t particularly feel his spark chamber just then (or much of anything else), he still knew it had just leapt in excitement that now, at least, the groundbridge issue had been identified, and they had a clear goal to work towards. Bumblebee and Bulkhead appeared to be of a similar mindset, for both attempted to rise, although their efforts were as futile as Switchshade’s, and the yellow scout crashed back to the ground as Bulkhead was halted where he sat. The Wrecker groaned in pained frustration. “Ugh- if _we_ weren’t breaching, one of us could get back over there and fix it.”

“Were do we find it?” Jack jumped in, almost before Bulkhead could finish speaking. “And how do we fix it?” Raf added, stepping forward to demonstrate his willingness to move immediately. The medic offered the human a small smile and quickly relayed the directions and instructions necessary for the humans, before all three took off down the designated hallway, slowing their pace as the sound of their footsteps receded.

 _Primus, guide their steps…_ Switchshade tried to online his vocalizer, tried to speak, but he quickly realized that it was no longer responsive either, and a very weak shudder ran through his shoulder plating, one of the few areas remaining on his frame that was only moderately damaged.   _I can’t… I can’t speak. At all… Just like when- no! This is **not** the time. I-_

Bulkhead interrupted the dark mech’s thoughts when he spoke, leaving his statement open to the room at large. “So if we get- _when_ we get the groundbridge open, we send the creepy-crawlies out, and bring our ‘Bots in…” Ratchet, who had collapsed back to a sitting position on the ground, now leaned back to brace himself against a human-sized ladder on the wall behind him as he finished Bulkhead’s thought. “Optimus and the others will be ‘fresh meat’. If we bring them in first, the scraplets will have no reason to leave. We’ll need bait.”

Switchshade tried to invent. Failed miserably. _It is not such a bad thing, becoming one with the Allspark. Might even be… peaceful… Perhaps…_ His pitiful attempts at self-comfort were weak, at best. Still, despite everything, he wanted to- he would have liked to- well. Such thoughts had no use now. _Besides, if my death can bring about the protection of not only these mechs here, but also Lord Prime and Cliffjumper …and Arcee, then would it not be worth it, a hundred times over? Their lives are worth so much more than mine-surely such a sacrifice is indeed a small price to pay…_

“Where are we gonna get bait?!” Bulkhead demanded, entirely oblivious to the internal conflict of the black mech sprawled out a few paces from his pedes. “The scraplets have already helped themselves to everything in here!” _I am here… I will go…_ Switchshade used what he could of his remaining energy to increase his core temperature once again, knowing it would brighten his life signal in the predatory ‘vision’ of the scraplets, and then agonizingly slowly, he began to drag his frame towards where he knew the groundbridge would open once it was fixed. His quiet progress went entirely unnoticed as the volume of the buzzing in the walls of the base abruptly grew much, much louder and _closer_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extra cliffhanger (not that it’s really hard to parse out what will follow, but still…), but I really need sleep. Hope to have the next chapter up tomorrow (or would that be later today? Meh…)


	28. Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! So many awesome comments on the last chapter! On a quick note, several of you were wondering why/how Ratchet and the other ‘Bots didn’t notice Switchshade’s injuries/attempt to make it to the groundbridge. To put it simply: they’re a bit distracted. Ratchet’s processor is trying to comprehend how to fix the groundbridge and how to lure the scraplets out, his medical coding is screaming at him to assess the damage of all the injured ‘Bots in the area, and he’s extremely worried about the short time frame before the scraplets attack and the three still trapped in the Arctic slowly freezing to death. Bulkhead and Bumblebee are in a similar state. So, it is not due to any animosity or apathy that they haven’t yet noticed that anything’s amiss (beyond the obvious), Switchshade’s just doing his level best to hide it, and they have a lot of immediate issues to deal with. Hope you all enjoy this next chapter, and my thanks to everyone who’s stuck with me so far!

Through holes in the ceiling and cracks in the walls, as well as the open hallways, hoards of scraplets swarmed out into the common area, drawn like moths to a flame to Switchshade’s suddenly-increased frame heat. Now essentially a glowing beacon calling the scraplets to him, Switchshade dug his claws into the floor of the base to drag himself faster across the floor, astonished that none of the Autobots had noticed his movements yet. He had made it nearly all the way as the swarm of scraplets came nearer and nearer, nearly in a frenzy as they descended upon his wounded frame. Switchshade offlined his remaining optic, and dragged himself blind the last few feet to where he needed to be, unwilling to watch his death coming for him.

            “Ratchet! All systems go!” Jack’s voice reached the dark mech, and he took a final glance behind him, a tiny rueful smile touching what remained of his faceplates as he saw the humans one last time, running back into the main room after apparently having been successful in repairing the groundbridge. “Fire it up!” Miko demanded, hot on Jack’s heels, with Rafael beside them.

            The medic staggered to his pedes one final time, optics unfocused; as he muttered stumblingly, “Groundbridge” and leaned on the lever, pulling it down to activate the groundbridge, the momentum of just his servo moving down enough to unbalance the wounded mech enough to send him to his faceplates on the ground. Switchshade spared the yellow scout and green Wrecker a farewell glance as well, and finally allowed his optics to rest on Ratchet as the groundbridge began to power on.

            A pained groan alerted Switchshade that the hardy old medic was still functioning, and the dark mech felt a tug on his spark even as the swarm of scraplets finally attacked, beginning to block his view. _Thank you, for all your kindnesses to me. Unlooked for, and undeserved, you have treated me with incredible mercy and compassion. It is an **honor** , to end my functioning to preserve the life of mechs like you… and Lord Prime._

            The tearing agony began again as the first of the swarm reached him, the pain strangely muted now, as Switchshade forced himself onwards using up the very last dregs of his strength. The glowing groundbridge enveloped him, and he managed to feel only briefly, a light tinge of frigid air, before darkness took him, and he knew no more. As he succumbed, he thought he could hear Bulkhead murmuring something that sounded like, “Bait, huh?” and he flinched, realizing that, even in this, he was a failure.

***

            Darkness. Pain. A deep, oddly reassuring voice murmuring something incomprehensible. The lightest touch of an impossibly gentle servo brushing across the top of his helm, and then darkness returned.

            For a moment, a hazy light came into focus, that deep voice speaking again, this time further away, stating, “-may be small, but they are strong-” and then an organic’s scream. Blearily, Switchshade tried to get up, wanting to help without fully understanding why, but gentle, firm servos pushed his chassis back down, and the now-familiar darkness embraced him yet again.

***

            * _Clang_!* “Stupid, incessantly foolish, utterly-” * _crash_!* “Can’t fragging believe that little slagger actually-” A thud, and then the odd noises were momentarily silenced. Switchshade onlined his optics slowly, his vision a mere blur, before he cycled them several times, allowing the room to come into focus. Something seemed off, and it took him a moment to realize that it was because his left optic had somehow been repaired, and he now had two working optics once again. _Is this… the Allspark? …_

            “Hey Ratch-”

*Crunch!*

“ _Creator_ Fraggin’-!”  

“Cliffjumper! What the slag did I tell you about lurking around in here?!”

“It’s not his fault, doc. We’re just worried about ‘Shade. Has there been any change?”

_Nope, definitely not the Allspark. But then… I’m alive?_

He cycled his optics again, daring to actually take a look around, and the wall and ceiling of the Autobots’ makeshift medbay came into view. A sideways glance towards the door revealed a disgruntled Cliffjumper glaring darkly at a wrench on the floor at his pedes, a servo protectively cradling the side of his helm. Ratchet stood in front of the cocky racer, his back to Switchshade, tapping another wrench idly against his thigh plating, while Bulkhead stood between them, servos up placatingly, though his wary optics were locked on the wrench in the Hatchet’s servo.

“As I’ve told you, Optimus, Bumblebee, Arcee, _and_ the humans, I will comm. you as soon as his condition changes. He is stable now, and those concerning spark fluctuations from excessive energon loss and extreme physical trauma have ceased, so he is likely to wake any time. However, when he does, he doesn’t need to be instantly pestered by anybot until he has recovered a great deal more. And once he has, _I’ll_ be the one to kick his tailpipe from here to Cybertron for pulling such an _absolutely insanely idiotic stunt_ like that. Until his condition changes and I comm. you, get out. Now.”

Switchshade quickly offlined his optics again, laying quietly on the med-berth and muting his field so as to mimic unconsciousness. Perhaps it was safer, to be unconscious just right then. His audials picked up the sounds of Bulkhead and Cliffjumper wisely making a hasty retreat, and then the heavier footsteps of the medic approaching his berth. Ratchet lowered himself to sit on a chair nearby, releasing a weary ex-vent before muttering gently, “I know you’re online, kid.”

Switchshade cycled his optics, his plating tensing closer to his frame as he chanced a glance over to Ratchet. He did not dare attempt to meet the medic’s optics, knowing full well the rage and disappointment he would see in his gaze, and instead allowed his own gaze to fall to that sturdy, bulky orange and white chassis. “R-Ratchet…” he acknowledged, his own rough, low voice rather hoarse after countless screams.

“Switchshade. How-By the Allspark, I’m not gonna slag you! Would you please quit it with the wounded cyber-pup optics?” Switchshade tilted his helm in mild confusion, only then daring to meet Ratchet’s optics. Despite his words, his tone had been gentle, and his optics held no rage. Instead, a small smile crossed the usually-grumpy medic’s faceplates when Switchshade actually met his gaze, and his optics were fond when he spoke again. “You gave us all quite the surprise, there. I’ve never seen Arcee so worried for anybot other than Cliffjumper before. Bulkhead was about ready to nurse you back to health himself after he carried you back through from the Arctic. Between the two of ‘em, Bumblebee and Cliffjumper have scarcely left your side, despite my direct orders that you needed peace and quiet to be able to rest undisturbed as your frame integrated with the repairs. Even Optimus… Well.” And then the medic turned away with a tiny smile, refusing to speak any further on the matter. Still, Switchshade was struck with the sudden memory of a familiar, deep voice reassuring and soothing him when he was still confused and disoriented, half-awake in the midst of his repairs before the blank darkness had taken hold of him again.

As he spoke, Ratchet transformed the end of his right servo into a scanner, and began running it over Switchshade’s frame, picking up a few, minor faults, although it seemed, for the most part, that the black mech had been left with nearly no lasting damage. “Ratchet, I-“

“Save it.” Ratchet spoke briskly, holding up a servo to stop him from speaking any further. “Explanations, apologies, and whatever the slag else you think you need to say can wait. Right now, I want you to focus on resting and healing, and _only_ on resting and healing. Am I understood?”

“Y-Yes s-sir.” Switchshade answered without even a trace of irony, allowing his helm to fall back on the berth, and offlined his optics once more. “Ratchet? … Thank you” he whispered, a tiny smile on his faceplates as he fell into a deep, healing recharge before he could make out the medic’s reply.

 


	29. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first of all, my apologies for the lateness of this chapter-a big storm hit the area several days back and the internet was shot until very recently. Hopefully it will be reliable again now for a while. Secondly, I got a request to write this chapter in the POV of another character covering their thoughts/reactions on the events of the last couple of chapters. So, without further ado, please enjoy!

            Ratchet ex-vented heavily again, looking over the black mech’s sprawled out frame in frustrated resignation. “You’re gonna be the death of me, kid…” He rose to his pedes after a moment, his frame unused to inactivity for any stretch of time that did not involve meetings, surgery, recharge, or certain… _other_ activities.  Although they typically required quite a bit of activity, as he recalled, a fond nostalgia passing through his processor, remembering his academy days as the ‘party ambulance’.

            Another glance at Switchshade’s eerily still frame was enough to chase any humorous thoughts away, however, and the medic scowled slightly at the ex-‘Con on his medi-berth. “Why did you have to try to play the hero like a slag-sparked fool?” he grumbled, crossing his arms as he began to pace the makeshift medbay. The events of Saturday had been straining enough without the spark-stopping terror that had struck him when he had realized the depths of the damage to Switchshade’s frame, and just how close the black mech had come to deactivation.

***

            Ratchet’s processor swirled in a familiar state of disarray that was common in major, exceedingly risky surgeries. This time, however, it was not his medical skills and experience that he needed to rely upon to pull his patients through, but his scientific ability. The lives of his oldest (living) friend and two brave soldiers depended upon it. This, in combination with the present and very active threat of the approaching scraplets, was enough to have him buckling down into a focused state of processor, multiple equations and possibilities whirling fast enough to leave a lesser mech dizzy.

            , “So… the rest of _them_ know we’re in here?” Bulkhead’s query was hesitant, and full of ill-concealed despair, at which Ratchet met his optics gravely, nodding once. “And if we allow ourselves to become their next meal, Optimus, Cliffjumper, and Arcee will never make it home. We _must_ get the groundbridge operational.” How to do so, however, remained a mystery, and they were running out of time.

Rafael, the youngest human and one Ratchet might grudgingly admit to being surprisingly clever (for a human), piped in, “Then we can use it to send the scraplets _anywhere_ on earth.” The other humans began to chime in as well. “Why not back to the Arctic? We already know they don’t do cold…” Jack suggested, with Miko adding with a wicked grin, “Sweet! One stop shopping!” The medic forced himself to refrain from rolling his optics at her enthusiasm, but when he pondered it for a nanoclick, the idea made a shocking amount of sense.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more Ratchet liked the idea, and soon a new, desperate hope lit his spark as he muttered deep in thought, “Given the body mass of the scraplets, sub-zero temperature _should_ freeze them on contact. So, _think, Ratchet, think!_ If the groundbridge is still down, there must be a breach in the energon fuel line!” Grinning widely now, the medic only refrained from a physical expression of his sudden manic hope due to the lingering wounds and pain from the attack of the scraplet scouts.

Even Bulkhead’s frustrated groan of, “Ugh- if _we_ weren’t breaching, one of us could get back over there and fix it.” wasn’t enough to damper his sudden mood improvement. When Jack and Rafael immediately volunteered to find it and asked how to fix it, Ratchet smiled approvingly and told them in quick, concise instructions.

Bulkhead watched them go, and then, showing surprising insight for the usually oblivious Wrecker, began, “So if we get- _when_ we get the groundbridge open, we send the creepy-crawlies out, and bring our ‘Bots in…” Ratchet felt what little strength he had managed to scrape together after the first attack begin to wane, and lowered himself back against the nearest wall to avoid falling hard. At Bulkhead’s words, he met the Wrecker’s optics and finished the thought, “Optimus and the others will be ‘fresh meat’. If we bring them in first, the scraplets will have no reason to leave. We’ll need bait.”

 “Where are we gonna get bait? The scraplets have already helped themselves to everything in here!”” Bulkhead stated, incredulously. Ratchet raised an optic ridge, and began to reply, but was cut off by a sudden emergency notification on his HUD regarding a dangerously high core temperature of a mech nearby. Before he could follow the sensor readings to their source, however, the buzzing of the scraplets suddenly became much louder, and then an enormous swarm of the pit-spawned monsters emerged from the ceiling and from the halls, circling for only a fraction of an astroclick before descending upon the helpless mechs below.

The tearing agony of the scraplets’ merciless fangs did an excellent job at distracting Ratchet from nearly all else, but even through the haze of pain, he couldn’t help but notice that there seemed to be less scraplets than he would have estimated on his frame. A quick glance to Bulkhead and Bumblebee revealed the same, and if he had had the ability just then, the medic would have frowned in confusion.

“Ratchet! All systems go!”

 “Fire it up!”

Ratchet staggered to his pedes one final time, optics unfocused; as he muttered stumblingly, “Groundbridge” and leaned on the correct lever, pulling it down to activate the groundbridge, the momentum of just his servo moving down enough to unbalance the wounded mech enough to send him to his faceplates on the ground. He could not suppress a pained groan at the impact, but the fleeting sensation of victory was more than worth it.

However, when the pain that had numbed his processor suddenly departed, the CMO felt a swoop of ill-defined dread in his spark, and without really knowing the cause, he still hesitated to look in the direction they had flown, genuinely _afraid_ of what he would see. When concerned, ancient blue optics finally faced the groundbridge, Ratchet’s spark faltered for a moment in complete horror. Switchshade’s broken, twisted frame was nearly unrecognizable, crawling in jerky, uneven motions across the floor, his core temperature manually set to dangerously high levels, and the heat drew the scraplets to him like a beacon.

“No…” the CMO breathed, the level of damage that had been done to the young decepticon enough to turn even his fuel tank over, and he had seen a great deal of medical horror in his millennia of medical experience. Bulkhead did not seem to have noticed Switchshade’s efforts just yet, however, for he glanced at Ratchet briefly, not comprehending the horrified expression on his faceplates, and just muttered, “Bait, huh?” before the Wrecker forced himself to his pedes as well. A slightly brighter flash of the groundbridge indicated that Switchshade had somehow, miraculously managed to drag the remains of his broken frame through the ‘bridge before giving in entirely, and the scraplets followed.

The noise caught Bulkhead’s attention, and he quickly put together what had just happened, his own optics widening in horrified realization, and he immediately increased his own core temperature as he gathered the last reserves of his own considerable strength and followed the ex-‘Con through the portal. Ratchet pulled himself back to his own pedes using the wall, watching in awed surprise as the last of the tiny demons followed the irresistible call of the Wrecker’s overheated frame through into the deadly Arctic.

Precious kliks passed, but before the last of the hope could fade from Ratchet’s optics, the familiar sound of Optimus’ deep voice reached his audials, and he shared an exhilarated glance with Bumblebee, the badly injured scout having remained silent but by the CMO’s side for most of the ordeal. Soon, the Prime himself stepped through the portal, the slightly stiff, jerky motions of his normally graceful frame giving away the damage that extended exposure to frigid temperatures had caused. Right on his pedes stumbled Arcee and Cliffjumper, each attempting to support the other and lend their strength. Finally, bringing up the rear walked Bulkhead, carrying a limp, broken frame that might have once been a mech, the Wrecker’s faceplates completely expressionless.

***

Ratchet cycled his optics, shaking off the lingering feelings of helpless horror and guilt for not noticing what Switchshade had done sooner as he returned his attention to his patient. It had been several earth days since the scraplets’ attack, and it had taken all of his considerable skills and nearly all of that time to begin to piece the black mech back together. Most of his pedes had been completely destroyed, as well as his doorwings and a great deal of his back-plating. His damaged optic and the internal damage, as well as the not inconsiderable strain to his spark and damage to his spark chamber were of higher concern, and were he in anymech but Ratchet’s care, the young mech likely would not have survived. As it stood, now that he had regained consciousness, even if only briefly, he was very likely to make a full recovery-with time.

The Autobots have given their all into helping the black mech recover, to an extent that had actually surprised Ratchet. Bumblebee and Cliffjumper were constantly attempting (and failing, he might add) to sneak into the medbay to sit beside Switchshade, despite Ratchet’s orders otherwise. Frequently joining them or simultaneously distracting Ratchet to give them a better chance was Arcee, who, while still colder than the Arctic she had just escaped from on the outside, was having difficulty concealing her warm, protective spark within since the attack. It was a rare occasion to find Bulkhead anywhere but at the door to the medbay, silently standing guard until Switchshade was able to regain consciousness and defend himself, despite the lack of active threats within the base.

The humans, also, attempted to ‘visit’ the nearly-deactivated mech, with varying levels of success. Jack occasionally joined Arcee in her attempts, which had never yet gotten past the first medi-berth inside the medbay doors, whereas Rafael and Bumblebee had actually gotten to his berthside before Ratchet appeared to drive them away again to grant the black mech peace and quiet as he healed. In a move of stealth that was nothing short of shocking to the medic, it was Miko who was the most successful in her attempts to get close to Switchshade. He was nearly given a spark attack when he went to check in on his patient in the very early morning, and saw the tiny human curled up on Switchshade’s mostly-healed chassis, fast asleep above his spark. Bulkhead had fallen into a light recharge nearby, his helm resting mere human feet from his human and the ex-‘Con.

However, it was Optimus’ reaction that most surprised Ratchet. The medic knew that Optimus had felt pity for the young mech, that the Prime knew full well that the living conditions under Megatron’s hand were far from ideal. He even suspected that Optimus had begun to realize something of the extent of the abuse that many under the insane warlord had suffered, Switchshade clearly among them. Ratchet himself had no idea the true extent of the damage, both physical and psychological, that had been done to the black mech, but if past experience was any indication, Megatron had a great deal to answer for.

However, despite this, the medic had had no idea that Optimus had begun to regard Switchshade as one of his Autobots. The faithful way the Prime had come, day after day, to sit at Switchshade’s side, a soothing servo resting gently upon the wounded mech’s helm, that deep, rumbling voice murmuring encouragement and comfort whenever Switchshade had exhibited distress in his unconscious state, was enough to convince Ratchet that Optimus now saw Switchshade fully as one of his own. The Prime had done exactly that for Ratchet himself, nearly at the start of the great war, when the medic had been in a similar situation. Optimus might not fully trust him just yet, but his actions during the scraplet attack seemed to have completely integrated him amongst them, and Ratchet welcomed it. And if the medic caught a knowing glance from more than one of the troops as they were chased from Switchshade’s berthside, the Prime sitting entirely undisturbed behind him, in the very seat they had just been forced to vacate ‘for the patient’s peace and quiet’, then who was to argue? Clearly, while Switchshade might not yet trust Optimus, he clearly drew strength and comfort from his presence, even while unconscious.

Ratchet smiled when the door to the medbay slid open quietly, breaking him from his thoughts once again. Optimus stood in the doorway, a slightly concealed hope in his grave optics, as he spoke quietly, “How is Switchshade? I trust that he continues to recover?” and Ratchet’s smile widened. “He woke, briefly. I believe that he will make a full recovery, in time.” Optimus glanced at his old friend with a rare, matching smile of relief.

 

 


	30. Back Among the Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'd just like to take a second to express my gratitude once again for all the awesome comments I've been getting on this story-it's always a great encouragement to me! Enjoy.

Switchshade onlined slowly. He felt an inexplicable sensation of peace, and even stranger, _safety_ , which made it difficult to awaken. Just one more klik. Just one, of this strange recharge dream of safety and comfort, of a warm, incredibly gentle servo brushing over his helm, of… **_Primus_** _, this is no recharge dream_! Switchshade immediately onlined his optics, and his vocalizer involuntarily whirred in astonishment as he scrambled away on pure instinct. _Lord Prime_ sat at his berthside, his battlemask retracted with a clear look of mild surprise on his faceplates as his servo hovered uncertainly mere inches from the dark mech’s helm. Switchshade’s spark leapt in terror. There was no anger to be felt in the Prime’s field, but a mech as ancient and powerful as Lord Prime would have no difficulty disguising any emotions at will. What other reason would he have been reaching for Switchshade’s helm, than to inflict pain in penalty for the black mech’s unforgiveable weakness?

            “F-Forgive me, m-m-my l-lord, I-I-I…” his vocalizer glitched static once again, and Switchshade cursed his incoherency, but he had been so startled when he came out of recharge that his processor was still spinning. Realizing he had just attempted to dodge a rightful and just punishment that would have come from the _Prime_ himself, Switchshade cowered on the edge of the berth. He had no right to try to avoid punishment, from _any_ of the Autobots, least of all from Lord Prime, especially after his deplorable weakness and failure to prove himself worthy of even the least regard during the scraplet crisis. Even the thought of his pathetic attempts at helping was enough to make him cringe, but it took him only an astroclick to compose himself.

            Taking a shaky in-vent, Switchshade forced his trembling servos to brace his frame as best he could so as to slide closer to Lord Prime, placing himself within easy reach of those deadly servos again. “I-I s-s-submit myself f-for punishment, m-my l-lord Prime” he managed to whisper shakily, offlining his optics so he would not see the pain coming. Switchshade braced himself, tilting his helm back to offer the vulnerable cables of his throat to Prime’s will, praying silently for the mercy that he dared not beg aloud for.

            “Switchshade-” the concerned, surprised tone to Lord Prime’s voice was enough to startle the black mech into onlining his optics once again, and he was surprised to see that his lord was simply staring at him in shock, making no move to touch him again. “I would not… I would _never-_ ” Switchshade watched with wide optics as Lord Prime was seemingly struck speechless, and when the black mech could not repress a minute flinch when the Prime moved a servo while speaking for emphasis, the larger mech leapt to his pedes and moved back as if he had been burned. “I would _never_ lay a servo upon a wounded and unconscious mech with the intention to cause further harm, let alone one who has done so much for my people.”

            Lord Prime’s deep blue optics burned with an intense sincerity that made Switchshade quickly drop his own dark red optics, not daring to hold optic contact with the Prime. He noticed that since his discomfort with the Prime’s proximity had been made known, Lord Prime had opted to stay several paces away, and had lifted his servos slightly in a gesture that indicated that he was unarmed. Logically, Switchshade knew it would take no weapons for the Prime to _break_ him, but the fact that Lord Prime was willing to show such a gesture of peace, just in regards to Switchshade’s unease, was actually enough to slow his rapid sparkbeat slightly.

            “Switchshade, I fear that we must talk again, for our last conversation seems to have slipped your processor, but I fear this is neither the time nor the place for a drawn out conversation. You still have much healing to do, and Ratchet has advised peace and quiet for a faster recovery.” The black mech nodded quickly, lowering his helm respectfully and attempting to appear attentive to Lord Prime’s words, while inwardly, he could only wonder if it was his injuries that had stayed his lord’s servo, and if so, how long until Ratchet deemed him well enough to undergo the many penalties awaiting him? _Ratchet himself will likely take his pound of flesh from my frame, after the rage he so clearly displayed at my failure when last we spoke… To say nothing of what Lord Prime will do, when my failure to recall the danger of the scraplet pod in time put everyone in the base at risk. It would seem that somehow, despite my egregious error in trying to bait the scraplets to follow me through the groundbridge, Bulkhead managed to cover for me and complete the mission, but that only places me into his debt as well._

“I understand, m-my l-lord. I w-will obey whatever you c-command. Once I h-have f-finished healing, I will-”

            “I’m sorry to interrupt kid, but there’s a situation out here I think you should be appraised of, Optimus.” Ratchet’s strong, confident voice cut through Switchshade’s stammering with ease, and the black mech instantly fell silent as the medic’s optics fell on him. “I received a signal on a restricted band.” The CMO turned his attention to the Prime once more to alert him of why he had interrupted, though his slow, deliberate steps drew him ever nearer to Switchshade’s medi-berth as he spoke to Optimus. “It appeared to be coming from a starship _inside_ this solar system-it’s an Autobot identification beacon.” The Prime’s optics went from concerned and mildly upset to focused and intent at the medic’s words, his powerful frame already in motion as he headed towards the door leading to the common area with the main computer. “The details are on the third monitor, Optimus. I’ll be along in a moment-just need a quick word with my patient.”

            Optimus nodded, moving to exit the medbay, before his grave optics fell upon Switchshade once more, who tried to bow lower from where he lay in reaction, causing the Prime’s optic ridge to furrow again. “We will speak soon, Switchshade. There is much, it seems, that you still do not understand.” With that, the Prime nodded once more to Ratchet, and then left, signaling the door to close behind him.

            Left alone with Ratchet, Switchshade was unsure whether to feel safer or in even greater danger than he had been only kliks ago. A glance at the wrench idly twirling between the medic’s dexterous servos that seemed to have conveniently appeared from his subspace clued the black mech in to the fact that he was, in fact, majorly fragged. “Si-”

            “So help me, Switchshade, if you call me ‘sir’ one more time, I will make certain you regret it until the end of time.” The black mech tensed up even further, wondering if now, finally, this would be what sent the medic over the edge and began the cycle of pain, but there was a long silence, and when he dared to look up, Ratchet was sitting on a nearby medi-berth, watching him quietly. “Ratchet. I’m-”

            “ _And_ if you say you’re sorry for something that is in no way, shape, or form your fault, see previous threat.”

            “ _Ratchet_.”

            Switchshade lifted a servo to cover his vocalizer uselessly. It was too late, the damage had already been done, and yet the medic, against all odds, did not appear angry at the insubordinate tone, but instead, _chuckled_. “I take back everything I ever said about you being a good patient. You are every bit as infuriating as Bulkhead on a bad day, just in a very different way.”

            Confused and wary red optics met warm blue for a long moment, and then Switchshade began to relax. He relaxed a great deal more when the medic seemed to realize what he was doing and set the wrench down. “Listen, I understand that I _don’t_ understand all that you have suffered, and what kind of headspace that’s left you in, but I do need to get out there and help Optimus, so I’ll give you a very brief overview of what he’s probably going to say when he does get time to have that talk with you.” Ratchet’s tone was much gentler than it had been before, and it gave Switchshade the courage to sit up straighter and meet Ratchet’s optics as he continued.

            “We. Are. _Not_. Going. To. Hurt. You.” The medic looked him right in the optics for a long moment, and then nodded, once, and rose to his pedes.

“Optimus was in here quite a bit while you were in the most dangerous stages of healing, offering comfort when you became distressed in recharge. Every single one of the Autobots has taken the time to find a way to visit you as you healed, and I include the humans in that statement. At no point did any of them wish harm upon you, nor did they intend to hurt you in any way. You have done _absolutely nothing_ wrong to deserve punishment of _any_ kind, aside from being a slag-sparked idiot in trying to draw the scraplets to you with no regard for your own personal safety, and even if you had done something ‘worthy of punishment’, the very worst penalty that Optimus will _ever_ condone is some time to cool your pedes in a cell. And that would only be if you attempted to attack or harm one of us unprovoked.”

Switchshade just gaped at the medic, and didn’t even have the presence of processor to flinch away when a gentle servo on his shoulder urged him to lie back down upon the medi-berth. “I know that look, kid, that’s the ‘I don’t believe you, I deserve punishment, you’re lying to try to get me to drop my guard and then you’ll inflict unimaginable amounts of pain upon me’ look. Knock it off.”

Switchshade cycled his optics in surprise, and then caught a tiny, mostly-concealed smile upon the medic’s faceplates. “If _anything_ , you deserve our gratitude. While I stand by my statement, you are in fact, a slag-sparked fool for risking yourself like that; the truth is that we likely owe you our lives. If you had not acted as you did, the damage to our frames would have been much greater, and there is a good chance that Bulkhead would not have been well enough to follow you through as a second beacon, finishing off the last wave of those pit-spawn. I might have been too badly damaged to help patch up the others, to complete the groundbridge, to bring Optimus, Arcee, and Cliffjumper home. I don’t know what could have happened if you hadn’t acted as you did, but I can honestly say that I am very glad you did.”

As he spoke, the medic nudged Switchshade gently, and then made his way to the door, turning back to offer a final smile as he prepared to follow Optimus to the main room. “Rest, and heal Switchshade. And one more thing- _thank you_.” With that, the Hatchet, scourge of the Decepticons and Autobots alike, ancient warrior of old and renowned healer of legend, _winked_ at Switchshade, and then left the medbay, closing the door behind him.

           


	31. Escaping the Medbay

‘ _We will not hurt you’. ‘ **We** will not hurt you’, he said. ‘We’, as in, the Autobots. Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Arcee, even Ratchet and Lord Prime. They have no interest in hurting me…_

Objectively, Switchshade could recognize that the smile spreading across his faceplates was undeniably foolish, but he couldn’t have stopped the expression if he tried. While Lord Prime had vowed that he wished no harm upon him before, but it had been difficult to believe his sincerity when lies and trickery had simply been part of day-to-day life aboard the Nemesis. Promises were made and broken within kliks, and pity the fool who believed another mech when they swore they meant no harm. Here, with the Autobots, it really did seem to be different, however. Unless Lord Prime was playing a _very_ long game, and Ratchet was in on it, which seemed unlikely at this point, perhaps they truly did mean to keep their word, and inflict no harm, even in punishment.

            “ _The penalty shall be fitting for the crime, and will not, under any circumstances, involve physical violence. Autobots do not employ physical violence to enforce command. We base our command structures by rank, yes, but it is enforced by trust and respect, not fear and pain_.” Switchshade replayed the memory file of Lord Prime’s words when he had first vowed that no corporal punishment would ever be used upon him or any other, and was still rather surprised when he realized that he believed it. The black mech replayed it once more, focusing on Lord Prime’s sincerity and concern, and felt that same befuddled, euphoric grin cross his face without his intent. Doubtless, as Lord Prime had promised, he would return to speak with Switchshade again once the current situation had been dealt with, but even just hearing another reassurance from Ratchet, and having seen the Autobots’ clear bonds of family, love, and trust amongst each other was enough to reassure the black mech that he was in no danger here.

            Slowly, careful not to set off any alarms for all the monitoring equipment that Ratchet had set up to watch all of his vitals, Switchshade began to delicately remove the sensitive equipment. Taking care to ensure he didn’t break any of the doubtlessly valuable and difficult to obtain equipment, the black mech slowly and painstakingly freed himself, and then managed to shakily get to his newly-reconstructed pedes. Ratchet really did brilliant work; Switchshade admitted to himself, as he took a few cautious steps, the new armor plating and repaired protoform already well-synced to the rest of his frame. Tingles of pain shot up throughout his pedes and servos, running up to the base of newly-replaced doorwings still wrapped in copious bandages, all the way up to the top of his helm and then back down again. The pain, while distracting, was easily manageable, and in fact quite a good sign, in his opinion, as only solar cycles ago, he had expected to be deactivated entirely. At least now, he knew he was alive, and Ratchet had even promised that he was likely to make a full recovery.

            Logically, the black mech knew he probably shouldn’t be trying to move just yet, but he really wanted to depart from the medbay, at least for a short period of time, and stretch his frame, try out his new pedes. He knew that his chambers awaited, and although the makeshift berth there was almost exactly the same as the one he had just vacated in the medbay, the one in his room was in a much more private setting, and perhaps there he could find a bit more privacy than in the medbay. Ratchet had been quick to point out that both Autobots and humans alike had been eager to visit him while he had been unconscious, but now that he had awoken the novelty would likely wear off and things could return to normal. _Now… how do I get to my assigned berthroom without being detected?_

            A quick scan of the area immediately outside of the medbay door revealed that Bulkhead stood guard, although for what purpose, Switchshade could not say. The rest of the Autobots appeared to be gathered in the common area, and before the black mech could worry about how he could get past the Wrecker, Miko’s voice called out to her guardian, beckoning him to join the others as Ratchet and Optimus attempted to contact the source of the Autobot beacon. Switchshade waited until the Wrecker was a good distance down the hall, and then followed, masking the quiet sound of the door’s opening and then shutting by doing so when the Wrecker’s pedesteps fell.

            Much more quietly, Switchshade glided along the floors, making no noise despite how uncertain his pedesteps were with his still-healing frame. He made it nearly to the open-doorway entrance into the common area before stopping, listening to Lord Prime’s clear, confident voice declaring, “Unknown vessel, this is Autobot Outpost Omega 1. Identify yourself.” Carefully, Switchshade peeked into the room, and was grateful when it appeared that all attention had been drawn to the computer screen as they awaited an answer. The black mech carefully edged his way along the wall behind them, praying silently that Ratchet did not turn, that no mech would catch sight of him.

            Static whirred, and then a cocky voice answered Lord Prime’s command with a twinge of sarcasm that was inherently familiar to Bulkhead, if the green Wrecker’s optics suddenly lighting up with extreme joy and excitement was any indication. “I’ve had warmer welcomes from Decepticon combat brigades.”

            Bulkhead grinned widely, “Wheeljack?! You old ‘Con-crusher! What are you doing all the way out here?” The open enthusiasm and genuine happiness in his tone caused a tiny, fond smile to cross Switchshade’s faceplates, even as he safely made it to the hallway on the opposite end of the room, quietly but swiftly making his way through and out of sight. As he continued, not certain if his frame would be able to withstand being upright much longer, he heard ‘Wheeljack’ responding to Bulkhead’s query, the other’s voice fading the farther Switchshade got from the common area. “Bulkhead? That you? What’s with…?”

            Switchshade wearily opened the door to his chambers, and despite the fact that he had only slept in them two nights, he felt a sense of comfort when the door closed behind him again. He stumbled blindly to the berth, the small size of the room making it easy, and as he collapsed down, that tiny, fond smile stayed on his faceplates. He had never met Wheeljack, despite the white mech’s inclusion in the war, but he did recognize the designation from the databanks on the Nemesis, and recalled that Wheeljack had been one of the Wreckers, and a close friend of Bulkhead’s if the green mech’s reaction had been anything to go by.

            The black mech curled into himself slightly, venting shallowly until the pain that had begun to rack up from his movements began to decrease again. He offlined his optics, frame relaxing into the berth, and had nearly sunk into recharge again when there came a knock upon his door. Fearful red optics blinked open, and, knowing it was inevitable to resist, Switchshade ex-vented in resignation before calling out for the mech at the door to enter. When the door opened, Ratchet stood on the other side, wrench in hand and a blank expression on his faceplates. Switchshade offered a meek, sheepish grin. Ratchet’s optics narrowed.


	32. Eavesdropping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for those of you who were hoping for some Wheeljack (Makeshift)-Switchshade interactions in this chapter-rest assured there will be plenty upcoming. I was tempted to just have Switchshade magically all healed up by now as the rest of them seem to be, but it just doesn’t seem realistic enough, when considering the level of damage he was at after the scraplets. So, I’m giving him a bit more recovery time, although it’s still pretty accelerated, for a couple reasons. 1, as I just said, I want it to seem just slightly more realistic, and more importantly, 2, Switchshade was raised by Soundwave, a Spymaster who is a master at keeping secrets and telling lies, although his deepest and truest loyalty is always to Megatron. Considering that it is very likely that Switchshade has worked at least once with Makeshift in the past, that the Decepticons (and thereby Makeshift) know that Switchshade is with the Autobots and is a traitor, and that Switchshade has been taught to seek out the tiniest of hints and nuances of if something is just a bit ‘off’, that he’d likely recognize Makeshift rather quickly. Having him still recovering, therefore, can delay that just a bit, and allow the plot to go on. So, ridiculously long note over, please enjoy! I am, as ever, most grateful for all feedback! (And Happy Belated Independence Day to any of my American readers!)

 

            An unsettling silence fell over the room, and despite his typical habit of avoiding direct optic contact with Ratchet or Lord Prime for longer than an astroclick, Switchshade found he didn’t dare to break the medic’s quietly furious gaze. Neither mech was willing to speak first, it seemed, but Switchshade had been raised by Soundwave, so if a quiet contest was to commence, the black mech had little doubt he would see victory, though it would likely be to his detriment. Kliks passed, and each felt like a joor, but Switchshade kept his vocalizer offlined, watching Ratchet quietly, careful to keep any hint of a challenge from his optics. The medic, in both field and faceplates showed anger, annoyance, and then resignation in succession. Finally, Ratchet broke.

            “Switchshade.”

            The mech in question inclined his head, carefully making no noise whatsoever.

            “I’ll admit it, I’m not as young as I used to be, but my memory files have yet to fail me. So tell me, Switchshade, how you remember my orders? Because, if I recall correctly, I told you to ‘rest, and heal’. How is _sneaking_ out of _my_ medbay and walking around on only just healed pedes and an extremely fragile frame going to assist you in ‘resting’ and ‘healing’?”

            The black mech dropped his optics finally, the clear annoyance in the medic’s optics not half as unsettling as the fact that it was just as clearly sparked by concern. For _him_. “I-I do not wish you to think me ungrateful, Ratchet. Truly, I am the very opposite. I am in your debt for all you have done to aid me, and I could not have stood a chance at surviving if it were anymech but you that I was brought to after the scraplets. I went into that knowing- _expecting_ to die, and you pulled off the miraculous by not only saving my life, but repairing me to the point that I will be able to make a full recovery with time-”

            “With _time_! Time spent in the medbay, under observation, where you can rest undisturbed and I can have monitors on your vitals and your progress so that I can do everything in my power to make sure that you _do_ make a full recovery.”

            “I understand. But, please, I do not wish to be a burden. I have already used up a great deal of valuable medical supplies that could be better served in use for Lord Prime or Cliffjumper or Arcee or any of the others rather than me. There are many battles fought, and with only the six of you here on earth, there are bound to be many injuries quite frequently. If they are to remain injuries only, and not lasting casualties, then your medical supplies will be needed for the valuable-”

            A sudden, sharp spike of utter rage suddenly surged into Ratchet’s field, and Switchshade felt his newfound courage melting away like ice under the hot Nevada sun. He quickly cut himself off and ducked his helm still lower, not daring to look up again, wondering what could have set the medic off so badly. Surely he was already aware of the waste of medical supplies that had occurred? Pit, he had tended to Switchshade himself, had saved his life, surely he already knew what had been used?

            “Please. _Please_ tell me that you were not about to say that my medical supplies should only be used on the _valuable_ members of this team. Because _By The Allspark_ -”

            The small door to Switchshade’s room opened again, and Bumblebee peeked in, his clever blue optics widening in surprise at Ratchet’s field and Switchshade’s posture. :: _Sorry to interrupt, Doc, but we have a bit of a problem with the groundbridge::_ the yellow scout whirred, subtly drawing attention to himself, for which Switchshade was inordinately grateful. Ratchet shook his helm, looking back at Switchshade sternly as he moved to follow Bumblebee. “Don’t think this is over, kid. For now, since it seems I can’t turn my back on you in the medbay, I suppose I can allow you to stay here. But for that to happen, you need to _stay here_. No more wandering around until I can get another look at your pedes, make sure all the joints and circuits are connecting as they should be. Until then, you need to stay off them-that means no more sneaking around. _Rest_ , and _heal_. Understood?”

            Switchshade nodded rapidly, a sudden feeling of warmth blossoming in his chassis as he realized that Ratchet had told him the truth. Despite his clear rage and displeasure, not even a dent had been added to his armor. The Autobots truly didn’t utilize corporal punishment, at least not for minor infractions. The black mech didn’t think he could feel any more joyful at the confirmation of Ratchet’s honesty, and then Bumblebee began to close the door as Ratchet took the lead down the hall, the scout tossing Switchshade a friendly wink as he left. The tiny smile on Switchshade’s faceplates widened.

***

            Switchshade cycled his optics. Slowly opened and closed his servos, flexed his pedes. Wriggled his hip plating. Cycled his optics again. Heaved an in-vent, and then a heavy ex-vent, and looked up at the smooth grey ceiling of his room. _Time to face the facts, ‘Shade. You’re bored._ The black mech smirked at the stray thought, even as he decided to tune in his audials to pick up what was happening in the main room. Despite his intention to follow Ratchet’s order to the letter this time (he feared inciting the medic’s wrath twice in one solar cycle), there had been no command to actually recharge, only rest. Switchshade had considered recharge, but unless he forcibly shut down his frame, he knew any other attempts would be futile. Now, though, remaining prone on his berth, there was little else to do that would keep the CMO pacified, and so Switchshade turned to the age-old tradition of eavesdropping, in hope that something interesting might be happening with the Autobots’ most recent visitor.

            At first, nothing but the sound of Bulkhead’s heavy pedes pacing in excitement reached him, and then the Wrecker’s voice, “You’re gonna _love_ Wheeljack. We were like brothers! And tonight, we are gonna _party_!” Miko, presumably who the green mech had been speaking to, almost immediately exclaimed, “Sweet!”, and her enthusiasm caused Switchshade to grin again. Clearly, having the wayward Wrecker come to visit was a source of excitement for more than just Bulkhead, and despite his own personal misgivings, Switchshade was glad that the green mech would be able to connect with a close friend from his past.

            However, the air of excitement was short-lived, for no sooner had Miko finished her cry of joy, than the alarms of the base went off, and Switchshade was already half-way to his pedes before he remembered the threat in Ratchet’s optics, and settled back down. Still, he kept his audial receptors tuned in high, despite the discomfort, to hear everything that was happening in the common area. If his help was needed, even simply to provide a shield for the humans, then Switchshade knew he would need to be moving _soon_ , and _fast_.

            “Bogeys. Closing fast on Wheeljack’s position.” Arcee’s voice was quiet, but full of vicious intent, and Switchshade was suddenly, exceedingly grateful that he was not among those at whom her rage was intended. Bulkhead was even less subtle, instantly joining in with, “ ‘Con scum! Open the ‘bridge Ratchet, we’re missing all the action!”

            The sound of the groundbridge starting up came then, and Ratchet’s steady promise, “I’ll prepare sickbay” was met with a chuckle from Bulkhead, as he asked, “Who for, the ‘Cons? This is _Wheeljack_ we’re talking about.” The sound of running pedes, and then three of the ‘bots were gone. Switchshade twisted, trying to tune in farther, but he could hear nothing but silence aside from the constant hum of the online groundbridge. Three steady sparkbeats still remained in the base, although Switchshade couldn’t identify to whom they belonged without some guesswork.

            He didn’t have long to wonder, however, for not even five kliks later, four mechs returned through the groundbridge. The Autobots were back, with Wheeljack in tow. Their mission had been a success. Switchshade ex-vented in relief, settling back down against his berth again, and looking up at the ceiling once more, although he kept an audial on the common room. He could hear Bulkhead introducing the other Wrecker to Miko, and there should have been nothing wrong with that moment. There _was_ nothing wrong with that moment, except…

            _Something is wrong… with Wheeljack’s vocalizer. What… It’s- familiar. But I’ve never met this Wrecker before, in battle or elsewhere, and all audial files of him sound just like he does now, but-there’s something else. There’s something **wrong**_.


	33. Recognition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies regarding how long it took me to get this chapter up-real life happened once again. Unfortunately, things are getting busy again with work, and with classes beginning again in August, my updates will likely become much more erratic and spaced apart from here on out. I will say, though, that I will not abandon this story without warning-I’m in it for the long haul, and if that changes, I will certainly post something on here and let you all know. I would like to express my gratitude again for all of the awesome feedback I’ve gotten on this story, and if there’s anything you’d like to see in upcoming chapters, please feel free to request it- if I can incorporate it, I’ll try to. Enjoy!

            The odd cadence of the newest arrival’s vocalizer bothered Switchshade enough to keep him from recharge, despite his processor telling him that worrying in silence in his berthroom was pointless. He continued to listen in, despite knowing that it would likely do him little good, as Wheeljack greeted Lord Prime with respect-at least by a Wrecker’s standards. Switchshade forced his trembling servos to lift his chassis from the berth, reaching a sitting position in nearly twice the time it would have taken him if his frame was functioning at peak capacity. Unconsciously, he bared his fangs as he continued to listen to Wheeljack speaking, although the clear joy and excitement in Bulkhead’s voice calmed the ex-‘Con to a degree.

            Switchshade knew even as he attempted to rise to his pedes that this attempt at escaping his berth would be as ill-fated as the last, but he couldn’t help but try nonetheless. He managed to make it nearly three steps before the circuits in his knees gave out and he crashed to the floor. Staring down his nasal sensor at the cold metal floor beneath his faceplates, Switchshade had to concede that perhaps Ratchet had had a point when he had commanded berth-rest for several more solar cycles. The black mech weakly crawled back to his berth, and managed to lever himself up into it once more, praying that the Hatchet was too distracted with the base’s newest addition to have paid attention to any suspicious activity in Switchshade’s berthroom.

            He had not turned down his audials, and Lord Prime was speaking now, welcoming Wheeljack with surprising enthusiasm, and Switchshade found himself relaxing against his will to the sound of that deep rumbling voice. The black mech was still uneasy at that sense of _wrongness_ that seemed to accompany Wheeljack’s voice, but above nearly all else, Switchshade trusted Lord Prime’s judgment. If Optimus trusted Wheeljack, and Bulkhead vouched for him, then perhaps that suspicious whisper in the back of his processor was wrong, for once.

***

            It wasn’t wrong. Switchshade tensed, lowering his frame into a light crouch as red optics blazing with rage locked onto false Autobot blue. The black mech _growled_ , a deep rumble in his vocalizer that would not have sounded out of place coming from Ravage, but he dared not move to attack Makeshift. Not yet. Not while Miko dangled helplessly from those wicked servos. To his right, Bulkhead bared his own blunted dentae, the Wrecker’s concern for his human clearly the only thing holding him back from crushing the false Wheeljack where he stood. _And to think_ , Switchshade mused darkly, _this morning had started so well_ …

***

            Switchshade had rested for several more earth-hours, his repair nanites finally beginning to successfully integrate the numerous repairs Ratchet had put into place, before a knock on his door startled him out of his half-in-recharge trance. “Come in.” he called softly, a small grin making its way across his faceplates when a smirking Cliffjumper peeked in. “Hey ‘Shade! Wanna fly the coop and come chill with the rest of us? I’ll fend off the doc for a klik or two so you can see something other than these four walls for a bit. Plus, it’ll give you a chance to meet Wheeljack. Bulk’s already over the moon.” The racer grinned, offering a steady servo for Switchshade to lean on as he rose, his frame already much less shaky than it had been earlier in the orn.

            Despite his instant acceptance of Cliffjumper’s cheerful offer, Switchshade was wary of Ratchet’s wrath, especially after the medic’s mercy earlier. Still, he was now able to walk with very little assistance, Cliffjumper allowing him to lean on him only to aid in his balance, as the black mech’s pedes were much more stable now. “Are you certain this is wise, Cliffjumper?” The red mech grinned. “Nope!”

***

            Ratchet was not happy.

***

            After no little amount of angered medic-shouts and flying wrenches, Switchshade was permitted to procede to the common area (they had been waylaid in the hallway mere meters from Switchshade’s door by the furiously exasperated medic), on the condition that he avoid becoming further damaged by the two Wreckers currently touching up their Lobbing skills in the common area, and that he return to his berth with assistance the moment he began to feel strained. Switchshade was grateful, and clearly Ratchet understood the importance of not feeling trapped, for the ‘lecture’, as it was, was much tamer than it could have been. Cliffjumper was shocked that his compatriot had gotten off so lightly, for when he had tried a similar stunt in the past, the medic had simply dragged him back to the medbay and stasis-cuffed him to the medi-berth until he was fully recovered. There may have been a wrench or two involved that time, too…

            They made it into the common area with no casualties, although Cliffjumper nearly had his helm taken off by a wide throw from Bulkhead just as they emerged from the hall. The racer dodged it neatly, catching Switchshade’s arm again an astroclick later, and helping him down to sit next to Bumblebee, the yellow scout already seated near a wall, keeping a careful optic on the three humans by his pedes. Should any stray shots of the lobbing ball strike one of the humans, it would be more than capable of offlining them, and  Bumblebee had volunteered to remain beside them just in case. Accidents do happen, after all.

            Switchshade nodded in acknowledgement, and Bumblebee smiled good-naturedly, very gently punching the black mech in the shoulder plating. :: _You risk Ratchet’s wrath, you know. ::_ Cliffjumper laughed, moving to stand beside Arcee, who lingered near Jack, in case Bumblebee should miss a block. “You don’t have to worry about the doc, ‘Bee. ‘Switch here managed some quite remarkable puppy optics, all things considered, and the Hatchet agreed to let him live… for now.” Rafael, Jack, and Bumblebee all chuckled, while Switchshade smiled briefly as his optics wandered over to the Wreckers nearby. Miko, for her part, was quite engaged in her electric guitar, and had offered only a rather manic grin at Cliffjumper and Switchshade when they moved to join the little group.

            Lord Prime was nowhere to be seen, but Wheeljack and Bulkhead seemed to have no compunctions as they played quite rambunctiously. Strangely, when Wheeljack turned to glance over the Autobots on the sidelines, his optics stopped on Switchshade, and the Wrecker faltered. His frame froze for only a moment, his shoulderplating tensing tellingly, and Switchshade frowned.

            “Hey ‘Jackie! What’s the matter?” Bulkhead asked immediately, lowering the large ball of twisted metal he had been about to lob back at his old friend as soon as he realized something was off. “Uhh… nothin’, Bulk.” Wheeljack rolled his shoulders back a bit, moving his optics away through force of will, and offered a smile to Bulkhead that appeared rather forced. “Here, go long!” He turned to run back several paces, and then lifted his servos in clear invitation. That seemed to be enough for Bulkhead, and the Wreckers quickly resumed their game, but the little voice whispering in the back of Switchshade’s processor grew a little more insistent.

            Ratchet returned shortly thereafter, shooting Cliffjumper, the Wreckers, and then the room at large a dirty look, before moving back to his science station, tinkering with the groundbridge controls again. Bumblebee quietly informed Switchshade that the medic had been doing so before, and had only stopped shortly before Cliffjumper and Switchshade had shown up, inadvertently proving Switchshade’s suspicions that the medic had put safeguards into place to alert him when his patient attempted to leave his room.

            Miko managed to coax Rafael and Bumblebee into dancing with her; Cliffjumper, Arcee, and Jack were laughing and joking happily nearby; and the Wreckers promptly missed a shot that fell right onto Ratchet’s console causing the medic to begin alternately snarling at them and cursing under his breath. Switchshade smiled, at peace to sit quietly and observe the friendly chaos around him, feeling almost… at _home_ , despite the lingering unease regarding Wheeljack. Of course, it couldn’t last. Of course, nothing could ever be that simple.

***

            Things had truly begun to go downhill when the Wreckers finally ceased their game, and Wheeljack asked Bulkhead, “So, did you go soft on me, after joining up with Prime? Cause I thought we fought ‘Cons, not sat down and had energon with ‘em.” He gestured brusquely at Switchshade while avoiding the black mech’s optics. Across the room, Switchshade looked directly at him, and tilted his helm. Wheeljack flinched. It was minute, and virtually unnoticeable, certainly escaping Bulkhead’s notice, but Switchshade caught it, and his dark red optics narrowed.

            Bulkhead gave a brief explanation, how Switchshade had turned his backplates on the ‘Cons, how he had saved Cliffjumper, and protected the humans. How he was on a sort of… ‘probation’ with the Autobots, for now.  “Interesting…” was Wheeljack’s only comment, before he dropped the matter entirely, but Switchshade rose to his pedes, watching very closely when the white, red, and green mech drew near to Ratchet as the medic worked to fix the damage that had just been done.

            As Wheeljack complimented Ratchet on his work, everything clicked. That odd tilt of his helm, the slightest lilt in his vocalizer. Tells, tiny and insignificant, but present, that Soundwave had pointed out to his youngling vorns ago while analyzing the recruit Makeshift’s abilities. The mech was able to embody anymech at will, hence his designation, and he was extensive in his research before he took on a persona. Still, there were always certain tells that were present, however minor they might be. And yet, when ‘Wheeljack’ looked at Ratchet out of the corner of his optic, and carried on their conversation, asking with the mildest inflection in his voice, “…somethin’ wrong with it?” Switchshade’s frame went cold. _Makeshift_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Edit*  
> I won't have another chapter up tonight, but I had a bit of spare time and windows 2007 Paint, so I made an image of what I imagine Switchshade might resemble. If anyone's interested, the link is here: http://sincorah.deviantart.com/art/Switchshade-694650402


	34. Wheeljack(s)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm super grateful for all the awesome feedback! I know this is pretty much exactly like in the show, but I didn't want to steal all the awesomeness that is the fight between Makeshift and Wheeljack, so considering that Switchshade is still injured, and the other Autobots didn't have much of a chance to step in and help either, I figured it'd be best that his interference was minimal at best. (There is still a little history between him and Makeshift though, so I may explore that a bit more next chapter.)

It had all gone to Pit after that. Switchshade discovered that venting was very difficult when one’s energon had as good as frozen in one’s lines, and he went still as the realization of ‘Wheeljack’s’ true identity came to him. _Primus…_

            “-didn’t care for the way it sounded this last jump. I put it in-”

            “ _Ratchet_!”

            Switchshade stumbled only a half-step towards the medic before realizing he had made a grave error in judgment, when Makeshift turned to look at him with narrowed, suspicious optics. The medic in question turned as well, clearly surprised at the abrupt interruption, and tilted his helm inquisitively. The black mech checked himself, slowly lowering the servo he had instinctively lifted to try to reach out to Ratchet in his desperation as he shifted his weight back again.

            “…I… uh… I just wanted to ask if you’d be willing to… help me back to my berthroom. Please. I… My pedes are pained, and if you are willing, I’d appreciate you taking a moment to scan them again once I’m off of them?”

            He turned the last into a question, his vocalizer tapering off as he attempted to act at least somewhat in line with his usual behavior around the Autobots, his shock at Makeshift’s unexpected presence throwing him for a loop. Ratchet gave him an odd look, which was mirrored by Cliffjumper and Bumblebee behind Switchshade, but with a minimum of grumbling the CMO complied.

            Switchshade waited until Ratchet had escorted him down the hall far enough that their voices would not be audible to the others in the common area before stopping abruptly. “Ratchet, I beg of you to listen. I know you have no real reason to trust me, but I fear that your base and all the Autobots here are in grave danger.”

            Interrupted in the middle of what promised to be a most satisfying ‘I told you trying to walk so soon was a horrible idea’ lecture, Ratchet paused a moment as the utter sincerity and worry in Switchshade’s optics registered. The ancient mech invented quietly, and then nodded for the ex-‘Con to speak. “Can’t promise I’ll jump on the bandwagon right off the bat, but you’ve proved yourself many times over by now, kid. Tell me what you know, and then we’ll go from there.”

            Switchshade stared up into gentle, encouraging blue optics in astonishment, before gratitude and hope was replaced by a new sense of urgency as he recalled just what, exactly, was at stake. “I know this might sound… odd, but Wheeljack isn’t Wheeljack.” Ratchet cycled his optics, and then leaned back a bit and crossed his arms, a thoughtful frown settling on his face as he nodded for Switchshade to continue. “I have reason to believe that he is actually a Decepticon spy, likely sent by C-Starscream, to infiltrate and discover the location of your base.”

            “The signal we received was confirmed to be from Wheeljack’s ship, and Bulkhead has confirmed his identity. Are you trying to say that Bulkhead wouldn’t know a mech by sight and voice and presence that he fought alongside for many vorns? Of course, it is Bulkhead… But still, you have to realize how ludicrous that sounds.”

            “I know, _please_ , Ratchet, I know what it sounds like. I know that Wheeljack is an Autobot, or at the least, certainly not suspect of having Decepticon sympathies, but I swear to you that the mech standing in that room is not the Wrecker Bulkhead believes him to be. I- I have no solid proof, nothing I can give you as evidence, but… Well. There is a Decepticon whom Starscream could easily have reached, who has the ability to replicate anymech’s frame, vocalizer, and mannerisms. His designation is Makeshift, and he is incredibly skilled at what he does. His research of the mech or femme he becomes is extensive, and nearly always flawless, so it will be… difficult, at best, to prove my words as truth. Yet, there are certain tells, little signs he has shown in the past, that I recognized just kliks ago as he spoke with you regarding the groundbridge. Please, even if you do not believe me, consider what could happen if I am right.”

            Ratchet’s optical ridges furrowed in concern and concentration, and Switchshade waited with his spark thundering loudly in his chassis, praying that the medic believed him. Even for Ratchet to give the matter serious consideration was more than Switchshade had expected, in all honesty, and the dark mech found himself grateful for that much alone. Finally, after what seemed an age, the medic nodded to himself.

            “Very well. I cannot take your word alone, on this, but you are correct. If what you claim is truth, we could be in very real danger. I’ll speak to Bulkhead, and see if he’ll be able to question ‘Wheeljack’ regarding matters that wouldn’t be public knowledge. It couldn’t hurt to be too sure.”

            Switchshade sagged in relief, his whole frame sort of half-collapsing against the wall as he offlined his optics for a moment, thanking Primus with all his spark. “Thank you.” the young mech whispered, and Ratchet narrowed his optics as he looked closer at Switchshade’s frame. “You shouldn’t have exerted yourself so much-now the pain and exhaustion is making you woozy.” When the black mech straightened up suddenly, panic returning to his optics, Ratchet waved him off as he moved to help support his weight, muttering, “No need to panic, kid, I’m still gonna look into this whole ‘Decepticon spy’ thing. _You_ , meanwhile, had better park your aft on your berth, and _leave_ it there until I say you’re fully healed. No more of this escaping with Cliffjumper business.”

            The black mech wanted to protest, wanted to offer his help in proving Makeshift’s presence, but Ratchet was nothing if not deadly accurate in his medical ability, and he was certainly not wrong this time. The low-level pain that had been shooting through Switchshade’s newly-integrated pedes had begun to spread up into his legs and hip plating, and the now sharp and spiking pain was indeed causing him to stumble more and more. “You’re right, Ratchet.” Switchshade admitted, as the medic helped him settle onto his berth. “I swear I’ll try to keep off of my pedes until they are healed.”

***

            He didn’t stay off his pedes until they were healed. Although, in his defense, Switchshade did have slightly more pressing concerns than a half-healed frame. The _Decepticon imposter currently holding Miko captive_ , for one. It wasn’t that he had been explicitly trying to disobey Ratchet’s orders, he had just happened to be rather bad at resting while holding the knowledge that Makeshift was walking around inside the Autobot base. Unfortunately, the bad habit of eavesdropping stuck with him still, and for the countless time that cycle, he turned up the volume in his audial receptors until he was able to listen in to the conversations taking place throughout the base.

            Switchshade had kept his peace as ‘Wheeljack’ wandered with Miko and questioned the human about the base, knowing that so long as Makeshift wanted to keep up his charade, the human wouldn’t be harmed. He had made no move to intervene when Ratchet told Bulkhead of Switchshade’s suspicions, and the Wrecker had snarled that it was only a foolish lie by a bitter ex-‘Con. But finally, when Ratchet convinced Bulkhead to at least check, and the Wrecker began to discover the extent of the lie, Switchshade knew he had to move.

            As he hurriedly limped into the common area for the second time that orn, he glimpsed Bulkhead advancing menacingly on Makeshift as the green mech snarled, “I’d already left the Wreckers to join up with Optimus, but you wouldn’t know that if all you did was access Wheeljack’s public-service record.”

            “Miko, _move_!” Switchshade barked, seeing what would come just seconds before it did, leaping towards the human, an astroclick too late, as Makeshift scooped up the girl as she was caught off guard. The Decepticon instantly backed away as he held her threateningly, causing all the Autobots in the room to freeze for fear of harm coming to Miko.

            Switchshade tensed, lowering his frame into a light crouch as red optics blazing with rage locked onto false Autobot blue. The black mech _growled_ , that deep rumble in his vocalizer as he forgot all about his still-healing frame. Nothing mattered right now, nothing but rescuing Miko and _ending_ Makeshift.

            “Stay back, or I’ll squeeze her into pulp!” Makeshift growled, the sentiment made much more disturbing by the fact that his optics were still a light Autobot blue, and that Switchshade knew that this ‘Con was more than willing and capable of carrying out the threat. The black mech bared his sharp denta once again, but obediently refrained from advanced, though he didn’t bother to repress a snarl when Makeshift glanced over at him with a smirk. “I have to admit, traitor, that when I first heard Soundwave’s little pet went AWOL I didn’t believe it. You were always too loyal for your own good, just like your sire, but I guess that went out the window along with anything resembling _dignity_ befitting a Decepticon. We’re well rid of you, it would seem.”

            “Let the human go, Makeshift. She has no part in this.” Switchshade’s tone might have been called pleading, were it not for the fury pulsing through it still. “If you think I’m gonna give up my best leverage just like that, these ‘Bot-scum have done a worse number on ya then I thought.”

            Bulkhead growled, moving forward a pace until Makeshift’s servo tightened threateningly, causing Miko to squirm in pain, and the Wrecker halted again. “Decepticon coward! Let her go and face me!” The ‘Con’s only reaction was to widen his smirk. “Don’t fret. Plenty of fighting to come.” All traces of his falsified voice were gone, leaving the low, dark growl that was Makeshift’s natural voice to ring ominously through the base. Distantly, Switchshade heard Jack demanding if there was a real Wheeljack, and Makeshift answering, but the black mech focused most of his processor on judging if there was any possibility of him being able to move fast enough to save Miko in time if he leapt at the other ‘Con. The odds were not looking favorable.

            Makeshift waved Ratchet away from the groundbridge console, the medic obeying to keep Miko safe, and then the ‘Con immediately powered up the groundbridge, beginning to back towards it. Switchshade narrowed his scarlet optics, his frame crouching even lower as he coiled in preparation to pounce, the risk be sent to Pit, when another mech came hurtling through the groundbridge _into_ the base. He was identical to Makeshift’s current form, and Switchshade watched in shock as the real Wheeljack collided with Makeshift’s backplates in a skilled kick, causing the imposter to reflexively release his grip on the human (who was immediately caught and brought to safety by Bulkhead) before flying into the opposite wall.

            “I’d close that hole before the stink comes through.”

 


	35. All's Well That... Oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm super happy to get feedback on this! My gratitude to everyone who's left a comment/kudos/etc. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

A heavy silence laden with anticipation fell over the base, as Makeshift rolled up to his pedes almost instantly upon impact, his rage-filled optics locked on Wheeljack. Switchshade lithely moved back a step, keeping his full attention on the ‘Con in the room, and took his cues from the rest of the Autobots as they made no move to interfere now that Miko was safe. Bulkhead tried, once, to step into the fight, but Wheeljack gently pushed his old friend back with the flat of one of his blades, a clear smirk in his vocalizer as he stated, “Ugly’s mine.”

            Switchshade watched with narrow optics, wondering if he should comply with the white Wrecker’s clear command, or if he should take an opening to take down Makeshift should one come up, but he was given little opportunity before the two deadly swordsmechs rushed together and clashed in combat. Instead, the black mech carefully inched his way around the edges of the room, careful to avoid the nearly-dancing identical mechs, and managed to position himself across the room from Cliffjumper, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Arcee, and directly in front of Ratchet. Casually shielding the medic from the line of sight (and possibly fire) of the dueling mechs, he flared his doorwings protectively as he settled into a light crouch once again, deliberately ignoring the ringing pain in his pedes.

            “Which one is the real Wheeljack?” Rafael asked shortly after the duel commenced, and Miko’s eyes widened as she tried to watch closer. “Uh… I lost track!” The fight continued, deadly blades whistling and clashes as their masters’ skills became evident in the deadly dance. Soon, though, mere kliks later, one of the ‘Wheeljacks’ twirled his blade in a deceptively simple maneuver, forcing his opponent’s wrist joints to lock up and his servo to release the blade. As it fell, the aggressor leapt up and caught it, sending a swift knee strike to the center of his opponent’s chassis in the same motion. Makeshift fell to the ground, and Wheeljack stood over him, blade at his throat, and on the sidelines, Bulkhead grinned. “That’s my Jackie!”

            Wheeljack, after ensuring that Makeshift knew he had been beaten, turned to Ratchet, beginning to say, “You, hit the switch-” before cutting himself off and drawing his blades again in a sparkbeat, when his aqua optics caught Switchshade’s scarlet ones. Before the Wrecker’s blades had even begun to point at his throat, Switchshade’s own right servo had transformed into a blade and leveled with Wheeljack’s throat cables, his left servo attempting to shuffle Ratchet backwards protectively.

            The white Wrecker grinned darkly at the perceived challenge. “Two ‘Cons in one joor? Must be my lucky day.” Switchshade bared denta again, most of his processor already in battle mode, although a tiny voice in the back of his mind screamed, _No, wait, stop! Autobot!_ However, there were two lethal blades pointed right at him, and by extension, Ratchet, and nothing else could penetrate the most crucial objective of _Keep the Medic Safe_!

            Before the situation could turn truly nasty, a heavy servo landed on Switchshade’s right shoulderplate, and it was only by pure luck that the black mech recognized Ratchet’s field so close to his own that he did not lash out in defensive surprise. With the incredible strength gifted to all medic builds, Ratchet yanked back on Switchshade, hard enough to pull the younger mech right off his pedes, and the ex-‘Con did not resist, going limp and offlining his optics as he braced himself for the pain of a harsh landing that did not come.

            Instead, Ratchet lowered him into a controlled fall, easing him to the ground with a single servo, while holding up his other towards Wheeljack in the universal ‘stop’ signal. “ _Sparklings!_ ” he muttered angrily under his breath, standing straight again as soon as Switchshade was settled on the floor, confused red optics blinking online again to see the medic’s backplates as he turned to activate the groundbridge as originally requested. Wheeljack remained where he stood, equal confusion in his own optics, but he made no further move to attack Switchshade while Ratchet stood between them.

            The white Wrecker instead turned to look back down at Makeshift, who had watched the exchange with an avid interest, though the Decepticon made no move to attempt to get back to his pedes, knowing full well when he was outmatched. Wheeljack glanced at his current look-alike in contempt, muttering, “Time to take out the trash.” and then turned to Bulkhead, gesturing with a return of his grin, “All yours, buddy!”

            Bulkhead answered with an identical grin of his own, and then stooped to lift Makeshift’s weakened frame, lifting it clear over his helm and then hurling it into the newly-opened groundbridge. His toss was hard enough to throw the ‘Con clear through the ‘bridge, and together the Wreckers watching in satisfaction as Makeshift’s frame took out several drones that had been attempting to come through as well. Wheeljack’s grin widened when he looked back at his old friend. “Nice lob.”

***

            Switchshade watched with no little concern as the Autobots seemed to calm down immensely once the threat was over. Wheeljack and Bulkhead had another reunion (a real one this time, now that it was truly Wheeljack among them), and the humans quickly waylaid the new Wrecker with a thousand questions that they had likely already posed to Makeshift as well. For his part, the black mech was more than content to continue to remain where Ratchet had put him, partially hidden behind the medic’s pedes as he stood at the groundbridge controls. As an added bonus of being out of the way and mostly out of sight, Ratchet’s mercy extended to darkly glaring at Wheeljack every time the Wrecker so much as glanced over towards Switchshade’s prone form in curiosity.

            The adrenaline of knowing his fam- _team_ , er, that is, _the Autobots_ , had been in danger, as well as the instant threat upon Miko’s life, had begun to fade, and now all the pain and discomfort of his frame came back upon him with a vengeance. Ratchet had commanded him to remain in his berthroom, and Switchshade knew that even though he had not made a single move to actually engage in a fight, the exertion he had put forth since leaving his berth had been more than enough to strain the limits of his healing frame. Glancing nervously up at the medic still standing over him, the black mech decided he was safest remaining where he was, and so he made no move to attempt to go anywhere, simply turning his faceplates to the floor and shunting his optics to the side whenever anybot looked his way.

            A short time later, Miko suggested they recommence the party once again, now that the _real_ Wheeljack was among them, and her offer was met with no argument. Kliks later, she had once again pulled out her _Primus-Cursed_ guitar and was enthusiastically rocking it, as Rafael and Jack and even Bumblebee began to dance. Arcee and Cliffjumper stood to the side, alternatively talking quietly and throwing concerned glances towards Switchshade, and shaking their heads affectionately at the humans. Ratchet scowled in their general direction, and grumpily muttered, “It’s like a recurring nightmare.”, to which Switchshade could only offer silent agreement. Bulkhead and Wheeljack settled after a time, and were speaking quietly when Lord Prime returned to the base mere earth-minutes after Makeshift had been removed.

            _Slag._ Switchshade tried to shuffle a bit farther behind Ratchet when he heard Lord Prime’s familiar engine roaring, but was met with the medic’s Death Glare, and instantly ceased his efforts. Lord Prime had already seen him, however, and began to approach, when Ratchet met his gaze, and the two mechs appeared to have a silent conversation (though likely it was on comms.). Whatever Ratchet did, it seemed to be enough to satisfy Lord Prime that Switchshade was not a threat, nor in immediate peril, and so he turned to Wheeljack instead, offering a greeting quite similar to that which he had done for Makeshift earlier that cycle.

            Switchshade felt his strength wane yet further, and was surprised when the room blurred before him. Lord Prime and Bulkhead were speaking with Wheeljack, who was turning down their offer to stay, declaring that he desired to continue to explore rather than remain with the Autobots in their base, but Switchshade found himself slipping more and more. Soon, he found his helm resting on the floor, and could only cycle his optics slowly as the room grew yet dimmer. As if from a distance, he heard Cliffjumper’s voice mentioning his name, and he attempted to sit up, or at least he thought he had, and then Ratchet’s comforting field enveloped him, and the medic’s impossibly strong arms were lifting him, and the black mech knew no more.


	36. Unapologetic Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffiness and super minor, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it-angst. Recovery and small stepping stones to friendship. That is all. That’s it, there’s no plot. Enjoy! My gratitude to everyone who left a comment, it’s always super awesome to see what you have to say!

 

            Upon waking, Switchshade knew instantly that something was wrong, and it took a klik for him to realize that the sensation was actually the _absence_ of ‘something wrong’. His frame felt complete, and when he was able to rise to his pedes with his usual lithe grace, the black mech couldn’t suppress a tiny grin from making its way across his faceplates. He took a moment to shift and flutter his looser armor plates, enjoying the simple feeling of just being able to move without pain, and so when a heretofore unnoticed mech spoke, he couldn’t be blamed for spooking just a bit. “The Doc wasn’t too happy with you.”

            Switchshade yelped quietly and instantly spun to face the voice, Arcee’s distinctive frame coming into view as the femme leaned against the wall near his berth. Tensing, Switchshade did not drop his gaze, though he was careful to keep his servos loose and unthreatening. Thus far, the femme had proven to be a capable warrior, and despite her ability to kill, she had made no move to harm him in all of his time with the Autobots, further proving Lord Prime’s claims that such was not the Autobot way, but the black mech remained wary. There was an exception to every rule, and something about Arcee set him on edge, though he couldn’t have specified what.

            When he made to move to reply, instead choosing simply to watch her quietly, Arcee shrugged. “Ratchet put you in a medically-induced stasis until your frame had fully integrated. One too many escapes from berth-rest. He said if you had over-strained your frame even one more time after that whole Wheeljack escapade, he’d have needed to overhaul your whole frame from protoform.” Now Switchshade’s optics widened in surprise, and he searched the femme’s face and frame, but there was no hint of a lie in her field or visage. “How long was I out for?” he asked, very quietly.

            “Nearly two weeks.” Arcee replied, watching him closely to catch his reaction. “You missed quite the commotion too. We compromised our cover with a group of humans, ironically enough known as ‘MECH’, and then Bulkhead and Miko took a fieldtrip to the earth region of Greece.” Switchshade cycled his optics in shock, attempting to take in this information, when Arcee raised an optic ridge. “The humans are all fine, as are the rest of us, though Cliff and Bulk both took a beating from Knockout and Breakdown. Friends of yours?”

            Switchshade shook his helm slowly, trying to fit together the pieces of what he knew of the two mechs in question as well as any information on their previous interactions with the Autobots. “Breakdown has a… history, with Bulkhead, and Knockout is the CMO on the Nemesis. Beyond that, I fear I have little knowledge of either that can be of use, and all that you might need to know could be accessed with ease, especially if you were to recruit Rafael or Ratchet.” Even as he mentioned the Autobot CMO, Switchshade felt his spark sink. “Is he… still very angry with me?”

            Arcee ex-vented heavily, finally uncrossing her arms and moving to slowly, carefully lay a surprisingly gentle servo on the ex-‘Con’s shoulderplating. “He’s a medic, he’s used to dealing with stubborn patients. Trust me, aside from normal levels of Ratchet-grumpiness, you’ll have nothing to worry about.” She moved over to the doorway, keying it open and gesturing for him to follow her as she continued. “Besides, compared to some of what the doc’s had to deal with over the vorns, you weren’t even on the top 100. Have you ever seen a Prime with cosmic rust on his-?”

            “Arcee! And Switchshade! Awake and aware once again, I see! How are you feeling? Did you dream while you were in that coma? What did you dream about? Were there monsters? Are there monsters on Cybertron? I’ll bet they’re huge! Wanna hear what Bulk and I did while you were out? Do you know Breakdown? Bulkhead says that he’s…”

            Miko all but literally jumped on him as soon as the two bots emerged into the common area, already speaking faster than a turbo-rat on jet fuel, and Arcee cut herself off and just offered a grin to Switchshade before moving to stand beside Cliffjumper where he was currently facing off with Rafael in a racing video game. As Switchshade attempted to begin to decipher what, exactly, the tiny human currently attempting to climb his pedes had asked, Bulkhead straightened up from where he had been watching the game with a smirk, moving to stand before the ex-Con with an oddly solemn expression.

            “Hey Miko, you wanna go talk with Jack for a bit? I need to have a word with Switchshade.” The human nodded agreeably, willingly bounding over to the older human and beginning to tease him about a recent race, completely oblivious to the sudden utter terror that had washed over the mech she left behind.

            Switchshade held entirely still, the energon frozen in his lines, as that phrase rang over and over through his processor. ‘ _I need  a word with Switchshade’, ‘I need a word’, ‘We’re just gonna have a little… talk…_ ’, over and over again. A thousand different variations, all with one crystal clear intent behind them. Still, no other ‘Bot made any move to stop the Wrecker or to interfere at all, and the black mech straightened up, determined to take whatever was thrown at him with dignity. _Enough cowering, at least from those who are not Chosen of Primus. I have taken damage from Lord Megatron himself, whatever pain might come my way now, I will endure. Though, Lord Prime swore I would not be harmed. Does Bulkhead act without permission? But then, why did no other move to interfere? They do not fear him, this much is clear, and yet…_

“Listen, Switchshade, I wanted to apologize.” With that simple phrase, all of the dark mech’s worries dispersed to a simple ‘ _What_?’ Oblivious to his companion’s strife of mind, the green Wrecker continued. “I don’t know how much you’d heard, a couple weeks back with Jackie, but when you first tried to warn Ratchet about that imposter, I… Well, I didn’t react like I should’ve. I… called you some pretty nasty things, and…” The Wrecker trailed off, clearly struggling to find the words to accurately express what he wanted to say.

            “Cast disparity upon my credibility?” Switchshade finished with a small smile, realizing that the Wrecker was genuine in his remorse, and feeling oddly touched by the strange sentiment of actually apologizing for such a minor slight. “All is forgiven, Bulkhead. I understand that it must have been difficult to trust a mech with a past like mine over what you believed to be one of your dearest friends. I took no offense, and I’m just glad now that everything has been put right.” Bulkhead nodded with a matching grin, clearly vastly relieved now that the ‘emotional/touchy-feely’ discussion could be considered concluded, and unthinkingly clapped Switchshade affably on his arm plates before moving back over and engaging Miko in a bet regarding the winner of Rafael and Cliffjumper’s race.

            For his part, Switchshade stood frozen in place for several seconds, warmth and affection and joy all blooming in his spark when he realized. _Bulkhead didn’t harm me. He **apologized** for doubting me._ And best of all, _I didn’t cower, didn’t even **think** to flinch when he reached for me. With the Autobots, I really am **safe**_!


	37. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Or rather, anyone who happens to still remember or hold any interest in this story! My sincerest apologies for the 4 month hiatus, classes hit me out of nowhere and I was neck deep in work and school for the duration. Now that I have a little free time on my Christmas break, enjoy the next chapter!

The next several joors passed more peacefully than any Switchshade had experienced since the early vorns of the war. For the most part, the dark mech simply did his best to remain out of Lord Prime’s vicinity and made a concerted effort to avoid catching anymech’s attention as best he could.

While the Autobots began to settle back into what appeared to be their typical routine of patrols and guardian duty for the young humans who had attached themselves to the ‘Bots, Switchshade found himself more or less sticking to Ratchet’s backstruts. He watched in utter fascination as the medic flawlessly completed to work of at least six mecha, easily completing several times what any one mech might have been assigned on any given cycle on the Nemesis. The black mech followed in the medic’s pedesteps like a lost cyber-pup, but Ratchet tolerated it with a surprisingly good grace, even seeming pleased that at least _one_ mech in the base recognized his talent.

Switchshade’s recovery time had been greatly reduced after Ratchet finally lost his patience with the constantly escaping mech and stasis-cuffed the young mech to a medi-berth until his pedes had completed the necessary healing. He hadn’t been doing his weakened protoform any favors by attempting to confront Makeshift so soon after the scraplets’ attack, and although the involuntary two-week stint in medical stasis had done wonders for his repair systems, once he had regained consciousness, Ratchet had appeared in the med-bay mere kliks after Arcee had left. Switchshade hadn’t even attempted to speak, and the medic didn’t show any sign of having expected differently. Far more gently than Switchshade believed he deserved just then, Ratchet eased his left servo into the stasis cuff and attached the other cuff to the medi-berth. The thought to resist didn’t even cross Switchshade’s processor. A gruff, suspiciously choked-off “Welcome back, kid.” was all Ratchet said, before briefly running through some scans and then promptly leaving the med-bay again.

Two orns of peaceful (forced) rest later, the stasis-cuffs were removed by the medic himself, and Switchshade had taken to following him around the base. The only exception being when either mech was in recharge, or when Optimus happened to be in the same room as Ratchet, at which point the black mech would seek any excuse to flee the area as quickly as possible. The frame-crippling terror that had flooded him whenever he was within the vicinity of the Lord Prime had faded considerably, but Switchshade was still wary. Despite the Lord of the Autobots proving to be almost comically different than Lord Megatron in nearly every aspect, Switchshade could not help but wonder at which misstep or mistake that Lord Prime would finally begin to lose his seemingly endless patience. It had not happened yet, and that frightened the young mech almost more than actually witnessing the Lord’s rage might be.

Still, the Autobot base was undeniably far safer an environment than the Nemesis, and although Switchshade found his spark greatly yearning for his sire and Laserbeak, the knowledge that they were both alive and well thus far was a source of comfort to him. After the uncommonly long stint of peace, Switchshade wasn’t surprised in the slightest when a source of strife once again arose. What was a surprise, however, was that the conflict did not, in fact, begin with the Decepticons, but rather, the three young humans that seemed to have more or less semi-permanently moved into the base.

 

***

It was yet another orn of quiet, and Switchshade was silently pacing the length of the base and back, not yet daring to venture out of the boundaries alone for fear of disapproval, despite his status having been changed from ‘Decepticon prisoner’ to something as of yet uncertain. ‘Guest’, perhaps. Ratchet had finally succumbed to recharge after nearly five cycles without rest, Optimus eventually stepping in and urging his old friend to take a break from his latest study to recharge. The Lord Prime himself was away on other business, Switchshade hadn’t even considered asking, and the other Autobots with the exception of Arcee were already gathered in the common area. Bulkhead and Cliffjumper had begun a friendly wrestling match that had quickly expanded to include Bumblebee and half the furniture in the room, so Switchshade had retreated rapidly, meaning only to get out of their way.

Arcee’s engine’s roaring was his only warning, leaving the fleet black mech only just enough time to pivot on one pede as he dodged the speeding femme. She transformed back into root-mode after skidding to a stop, seeming oddly flustered about something, and simply muttering a quiet warning to Jack, who had climbed off of her just before she transformed, looking exhilarated and a bit out of breath. The blue femme offered a quick nod to Switchshade before hurrying further into the base. It was then that Miko and Rafael attacked Jack, exclaiming happily about his triumph in something. Switchshade had only half an audial tuned in from old habit, processor more concerned with why Arcee had seemed nearly upset when her human was clearly quite happy about something, when Jack quietly but urgently uttered seven words that sent the black mech’s helm spinning with worry. “You guys have to keep this on the d.l.- _especially_ from Optimus!”

All three humans jumped and spun around, with varying degrees of guilt on their faces, when the ex-Decepticon knelt to ask, equally quietly, “And what, pray tell me, Jack, it is that you are attempting to keep hidden from the Lord Prime?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, just trying to get back into the swing of things. Hopefully I'll be able to get another chapter up either tonight or tomorrow.


	38. Bad Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick sneak peak at why Switchshade chose the designation he did! I’m really just playing this by ear, so please let me know what you think! Too much? Too unrealistic? I mean, we have Mirage, who can actually disappear, and Makeshift, who can turn into any other mech at will, I figured this wasn’t too much of a stretch. But please, let me know what you think! I’m always happy to answer any questions and try to clear up any confusion. A great deal of the time I write, and I think I’m expressing everything I’m thinking, and then I go back and re-read it later and it’s a confusing jumbled mess. So if it makes sense, or you believe anything needs some polishing or alterations, please do let me know! Hope you enjoy! And belated Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and any other holidays I might be missing as well! And a very Happy New Year to Everyone! (Even Megatron…)

 

            “Switchshade! I… um…” the eldest human’s strange organic optics were far wider than his usual parameters, and the black mech allowed a moment of concern for his well-being before focusing on Jack’s words again. “Look, it’s just… I-might have entered a race? With Arcee?” Switchshade cycled his optics, his ruby gaze narrowing in slight confusion. “Are you asking me if you entered a race?” Miko and Rafael watched with growing grins at Jack’s embarrassment and stumbling attempts to keep the events of the day on the ‘down low’, as it were. “No, I mean… I did. We did. Race, that is. It’s just that, Optimus has asked that the ‘Bots not… you know… draw undue attention. And, well, racing in the streets is reckless, and… yeah.”

            Switchshade drew back slightly in further confusion, his optical ridge furrowing as his helm tilted slightly. “Then why did you and Arcee elect to engage in such activities? Did you not realize the Lord Prime would be displeased?”

            “No, no we knew, it’s just that. Well… there’s this girl, and I couldn’t just… I… you know what? Forget it. Just, please, don’t tell Optimus, ok? He’d…” The black mech’s optics widened, and his vocalizer stalled static as millennia of memories of Megatron’s rage superimposed over an image of Optimus, carrying out even a mild punishment. While devastating enough to mech-kind, it would be more than enough to utterly decimate a human. The black mech nodded rapidly, replying very quietly, “Of course, Jack. I will not say a word. But I beg of you, swear that you will never attempt to cross the Lord Prime’s commands again. No good can come of it.”

            Clear relief shone in the human’s optics, though less perhaps than there might have been if he knew what could have truly resulted from his reckless actions in going against the direct orders of Lord Prime, as Switchshade knew. “Sure, sure. I’ll be certain to be more… careful, in the future!” Jack smiled winningly, and then turned to go back into the base, Miko and Rafael following, all three seemingly unfazed regarding the close call they had just avoided.

            The dark mech watched them go with wary red optics, then rose to his pedes, rage unlike any he had felt since hearing Starscream’s temerity in asking Lord Prime to bow before him flooding Switchshade’s frame. With still-silent steps, the mech stalked after the humans, optics bright and nearly sparking in his fury. He waited a moment, doorwings swept high and back, and nigh quivering in barely-masked rage, and after the humans had settled in for a quiet evening of their favored ‘video games’, he moved to stand before Arcee, who looked up at him in surprise and alarm at his clearly agitated state.

“I would beg a word with you in private.” The femme’s cold blue optics narrowed at his clipped, clearly carefully controlled words, and she rose to her pedes wordlessly, following at his request. As he moved to a corridor far enough out of the way that they were unlikely to be overheard or stumbled into by any of the other Autobots, Switchshade turned on Arcee, and lifted his servos in furious entreaty. “I know that you have no reason to answer to me, but I beg the truth of you, if only for Jack’s sake. How could you? Do you not realize there could be disastrous consequences for direct and willful disobedience, not only for you, but also for your _much more breakable_ charge?”

Arcee blinked in astonishment at this, the most words any of the ‘Bots had heard from Switchshade yet, but he wasn’t done, and when she didn’t move to punish his impertinence, the dark mech steeled himself and continued. “Do you not realize the extent of damage even a gentle punishment would inflict on a human? I understand that Lord Prime is far more gentle and merciful than any commander I have served in the past, but for direct disobedience there must be consequences of some sort! I’ll admit, I have never understood the Autobots’ love for humans very well before I began to get to know your three charges, but it seemed to me that you held at least some fondness for Jack, did you not? Why would you risk him like this? What could you possibly have hoped to have gained-?”

Switchshade’s low vocalizer broke on the final word, buzzing static, and he found himself astonished when he lifted a clawed servo and felt moisture at the corners of his optics. Cycling them rapidly several times, he looked back to Arcee’s own astonished gaze, and stumbled back several steps. “F-Forgive me, I overstepped. I just… I apologize.” He spun on a pede and fled, transforming into his alt mode with scarcely a thought and took off out of the corridor, past the large group of surprised mecha and humans in the common area, ignored Cliffjumper’s call after him, and tore off out the hidden exit onto the rocky terrain surrounding the base.

***

Driving blindly, Switchshade only barely managed to keep himself from crashing several times, the underlying panic of being outside of the base, alone and without express permission, conflicting with the more pressing matter of the fact that he had just berated Arcee like a sparkling. Despite being far less worried about physical punishment from the femme than from Lord Prime, there was still no doubt that she could make his life as the Pit if she so wished it. She held a great deal of respect and influence amongst the Autobots, and Switchshade had little doubt that if she wanted, it would take very little effort for her to have him effectively removed from ever being permitted inside the base or trusted ever again.

_Foolish. Extremely foolish. There is no way this will end well. It is not my place to rebuke any of the Autobots. She is more than capable of making her own decisions and facing the consequences. It is only just… does she truly not realize that Jack is not nearly so hardy? That he could not withstand… Still not my place. I need to remember it, before it is reminded to me._

Distracted as he was, the mech was very, very grateful for his mod when he nearly ran _into_ a disturbingly familiar cherry red Aston Martin. Transforming into his root mode mid-leap, Switchshade quite literally faded into the shadows of the nearest large rock formation, quieting his spark rate and the energon in his lines until he _became_ the shadow. Now murky gray, he watched with no small trepidation as Knockout slowed slightly, and Switchshade found himself praying to Primus that the Decepticon medic hadn’t noticed anything amiss before he could conceal himself. Fortunately, it was just then that another vehicle, entirely Terran in model and design, revved its engine and passed the Decepticon, unknowingly sparking up Knockout’s overly arrogant and competitive nature. Any suspicions he may have had vanished in the face of a race, and he immediately took off after the human foolish enough to challenge him.

Switchshade watched in silence, and made no move to remove himself from his altered state just yet. All sensation and emotion was somewhat muted in this form, and though it was extremely draining to hold it for any great duration of time, the dark mech was not yet ready to return to his solid root mode just yet. _Just a moment more_ …


	39. The Race: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments! It's always to awesome to hear from you all, and it is very much appreciated! I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

There were at least four unopened messages on his comm., possibly more, though Switchshade dared not read them just yet. No doubt at least one was from Arcee, demanding an explanation for his actions and his location. The others, he feared to open, lest Lord Prime be among them and the dark mech was not eager to face any rage or disappointment from the Prime before he absolutely had to. However, his strength was waning fast in his camouflaged form, and so it was with no little regret that he allowed his bio-functions to return to their normal operational capacity.

            Steadying his shaky frame with a servo on the solid wall of rock at his back, Switchshade cycled his optics several times to adjust to the darkness around him. Without having paid any attention to the passage of time in his half-trance state, he was startled to realize how late it had gotten, the earth having fallen well into its night-cycle. Earth’s single moon shone a cold, bright white light above him, and an uneasy sensation of wariness settled over his spark. The dark mech knew the most prudent course of action for him to pursue would be to return to the base and accept whatever consequences would await him for his thoughtless actions, no matter what form they might take. Surprisingly, the thought did not send a chill of cold fear through his lines as it might once have.

            He took a moment for his frame to recalibrate, and then settled into his alt-mode, driving at a sedate 80 mph as he hurried back towards the Autobot base, the only thought in his processor the hope that Lord Prime had not yet returned to the base and discovered his absence, especially so late in the cycle. It took him by surprise, therefore, to hear the rumble of not one but several engines, approaching his position and rapidly gaining ground.

            Hoping the human authorities were not involved, Switchshade quickly decreased his speed, only to stall in astonishment as several humans drove past him, _Bumblebee_ and _Knockout_ among them. Battle protocols immediately onlining, the sleek black mech accelerated rapidly, quickly catching up with the Autobot scout and Decepticon medic before his processor could even begin to relay what he was seeing. There were, thus far, no weapons involved, but Switchshade knew better than most just how rapidly that could change.

            Coming up beside the Decepticon, Switchshade rumbled a warning as Knockout deliberately collided with one of the human drivers, causing the car he was in to sway dangerously and fall behind. Like most of their kind, Knockout’s field was heavily shielded, but a wave of mild surprise and amusement was barely apparent as Switchshade drew nearer still.

            “Try to keep up!” the medic drawled lazily, entirely unfazed at the traitor’s unexpected appearance, seeming to find the entirety of the situation an amusing distraction, nothing more. Knockout moved forward, and as Switchshade strained to keep up, he watched in horror as the ‘Con began firing on Bumblebee. The two mechs swerved slightly onto the angled wall against the roadway they were racing down, and Switchshade increased his speed even more, hoping to be close enough to aid the scout should he require it.

            Switchshade felt exhilaration rush through him, despite his battle protocols screaming at him, for he had not achieved speeds like this in many vorns. Megatron would never have permitted such a thing, and the Nemesis was hardly designed for such high velocity travel regardless. Still, despite Knockout’s prowess, the medic appeared to be alone, and Switchshade felt rather confident about his and Bumblebee’s combined ability to handle whatever the Decepticon chose to attempt. This conclusion lasted all of three astrokliks, until Bumblebee took a slight left turn, and Switchshade was able to catch sight of Jack, sitting in the scout’s driver’s seat. _Why?!!_

***

            Moments later, first Bumblebee and then Knockout took a sharp turn and leapt over the edge of the road, taking off at an angle perpendicular to that of which the human drivers were moving. Switchshade vented heavily, turning to follow them with no little trepidation. _Are all Autobots so recklessly inclined when it comes to the humans? Surely, Lord Prime would not approve? And Jack! Did he not swear to me he would not resume these activities? Oh… No, he did not. He swore only to ‘be more careful’. Little glitch. Primus, keep him safe._

            A quick burst over short-range comms was the only warning Bumblebee was able to give as he deliberately leaked a slick cover of oil over the road behind him. Knockout was too close to avoid it, and almost instantly began to spin out as his tires lost any hope of traction. Thanks to the scout’s warning, Switchshade tried to swerve out of the way, but the terrain off-road was too rough, and he began to waver. His speed was far too high to have any hope of a graceful landing in root mode, but with no other options available unless he wished to join Knockout, the black mech took his chances.

            The moment his tires retracted, Switchshade curled his pedes as close to his frame as possible as he kept his doorwings swept low. Curled into as much of a ball as he could make himself, he hit the ground hard, rolling for several yards before coming to a stop and instantly rolling up to his pedes. Dented and dusty, there was surface damage only, and Switchshade took a moment to silently thank Ratchet for his excellent handiwork at patching him back together from almost nothing.

            Switchshade crouched low and sprinted in his root mode until the roadway was clear again, scanners keeping Knockout in his rearview, but the medic was still attempting to recover from his spin-out, and appeared too preoccupied to put up a pursuit just yet. The moment Switchshade hit clean tar, he transformed again, taking off after the scout and catching up to him just as Bumblebee was offlining his optics and engine, becoming as camouflaged as was possible for the bright yellow mech. He had found a tiny human bridge, and was currently hidden in its shadow, and he greeted Switchshade with a brief, dim flash of his headlight before dimming them again.

Switchshade dropped down in front of him, offlining his optics as well and shielding the scout’s frame from view with his own much darker one as best he could. He didn’t dare activate his mod, not knowing when he might need his full strength, nor what the scout might say or think of it, but his naturally dark frame was already much less noticeable than Bumblebee’s much brighter paint, and under the cover of night it was nearly as effective as full camouflage might have been.

Both mechs waited in silence. Bumblebee attempted to open a short-range comm., but Switchshade apologetically declined. ::Later:: he begged, before ending the line. Astrokliks later, the sound of Knockout’s engine came from directly over their helms. The Decepticon was on top of the bridge, mere human feet from them.


	40. The Race: Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I feel like this is just going to be the norm from now on for quite a while. An update here and there with random breaks of silence for long periods of time. Sorry! I had a rare moment of free time here (Strep throat struck again), and I wanted to get another chapter written, so I did! Enjoy!

            Switchshade felt his spark thrumming rapidly in his chassis as he struggled to remain calm. Beside him, Bumblebee was completely silent, and Switchshade couldn’t teek anything from the yellow mech, but the darker mech doubted he was much calmer. _How are we going to get Jack to safety?_ Above them, Knockout’s engine revved once, then went utterly, eerily silent, and Switchshade was grateful he was in alt-mode lest he begin trembling. A moment that seemed an eternity passed, and then suddenly Knockout took off, driving past the bridge and their hiding place. Switchshade and Bumblebee remained still and silent for a long moment more, daring to hope they might escape without confrontation, when seemingly out of nowhere, an earth vehicle suddenly drove up to them.

            Faintly, Switchshade heard Jack exclaim, “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me            !” The ex-Con watched as another human, approximately Jack’s age if the dark mech had to guess, stepped out of his car and stalked towards Bumblebee. The second human growled Jack’s secondary designation as he moved threateningly towards him, but Switchshade knew Bumblebee would be more than capable of protecting Jack from another _human_. Much more concerning was the stalling of tires in the distance, and the clear sound of the Decepticon medic turning around to come back. _Fragging Scrap!_

            Switchshade tensed, his transformation seams itching as he struggled to keep himself in alt-mode. Lord Prime would not be pleased in the slightest if Switchshade were fool enough to reveal their existence to an outside human. He couldn’t stop an alarmed exclamation when an all-too-familiar clawed hand suddenly reached down from the bridge above and snatched the second human from the ground. Switchshade immediately transformed, catching the edge of the bridge and hauling himself up in time to see Knockout throw the human into the air, transforming into his own alt-mode and catching the human easily in his front seat. Quickly securing the dazed victim with what appeared the equivalent of a human seatbelt, the medic chuckled darkly, taunting, “What are you going to do, traitor?” before taking off. Switchshade moved to follow instantly, tearing off without even glancing back at Jack, who had tried to run up the ridge to see where Knockout had gone.

            The darker mech struggled to keep up with Knockout, who had clearly only been playing with the human drivers before. His sleek red frame darted ahead, and Switchshade found himself struggling to keep up. Still, the captive human had seemed to know Jack, and while Lord Prime would be most displeased if Switchshade revealed the existence of Cybertronian kind on earth, the dark mech couldn’t help but think that perhaps, Lord Prime would indeed approve of a rescue of an innocent human. Regardless, Knockout couldn’t have anything good in mind when he captured this human, and Switchshade knew fault would fall upon him if he stood by and did nothing when it was within his power to act.

            Knockout drove even faster it seemed, and Switchshade sent a silent grateful prayer to Primus for Ratchet’s incredible abilities as he managed to keep the Decepticon in his sights. Several weeks ago, he would never have been able to keep pace with Knockout like this, and Switchshade could only attribute his newfound stamina to a combination of excellent medical care and a consistent energon supply. Putting on another burst of speed, he drew closer to the medic, and realized Knockout was entering another tiny human town. Switchshade came up to within a few yards of the medic, and they moved in sync through the center of the quiet town. Switchshade nearly stalled in astonishment when, to their right, he suddenly caught a glimpse of Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Arcee with Jack upon her suddenly pick up their trail behind him. _How by the Allspark did they get here so fast?_ The ex-Con knew he’d catch Pit for it later, but he carefully did not respond to any of the comms the Autobots tried to send him. Right now, he had to focus on catching Knockout.

            So focused on was he on his goal, Switchshade scarcely noticed as Knockout took a sharp right turn into an abandoned warehouse parking lot, and then slowed slightly as he noticed the medic suddenly turn around to face him and then stop. Switchshade quickly transformed back to his root mode and stalked forward, onlining his right blaster, and transforming his left servo into a blade. The human still trapped in Knockout’s front seat was clearly unconscious, and would have no memory of this event, so Switchshade felt safe in doing so. “Let him _go_ , Knockout. He is an innocent with no part in this war.”

            Knockout’s only reply was an arrogant laugh, and Switchshade fell easily to one knee to avoid the swipe that came from his unprotected backplates. Spinning as he fell, the dark mech slashed out with his left servo’s blade, catching a snarl from the large blue mech before him. Breakdown quickly recovered from the surprise, a wicked grin of his own crossing the brutal faceplates. “Always were a sneaky little scraplet. You may as well surrender now-you know there’s no way you can defeat either of us alone.”

            “He’s not alone.” Bulkhead’s voice was far colder than any Switchshade had heard from the green Wrecker yet, and the ex-Con was quick to dodge another blow from Breakdown, even as Bumblebee and Bulkhead hurried forward to engage the blue Decepticon as well. Switchshade delivered a swift kick to Breakdown’s helm, following it up with several blasts from his right servo, but it was clear only minimal damage was done. He ducked another blow, only to get blindsided by a quick left uppercut that sent his significantly smaller frame flying back several yards to land heavily on the ground. The dark mech quickly rolled up to his pedes, preparing to leap back at the blue ‘Con, but was quickly distracted by the sight of Arcee perched atop Knockout’s alt-mode as the red medic tore out of the parking lot. A glance back at Bumblebee and Bulkhead showed the two working in easy tandem, holding Breakdown at bay, and Switchshade made his decision.

            Once again in his alt-mode, Switchshade tore off after Knockout once again, keeping an optic on Arcee as he went. The femme was clinging on with surprising success until the medic took a sharp turn and flung her off to the left. Switchshade didn’t take a moment to make certain she was alright, instead choosing to stay right on the medic’s bumper as the femme growled in wordless rage behind him. The dark mech heard her transform nearly before she collided with the ground, and within astrokliks she was as far behind Switchshade as he was behind Knockout.

            Once again, however, the medic sped up, and Arcee began to fall behind as Switchshade forcibly pushed himself to increase his own speed. He finally, painstakingly began to gain ground, and pulled up alongside Knockout’s left. A quick scan of the ‘Con revealed the human held captive on the medic’s right side, and so Switchshade held no qualms against ramming into the side of the medic with all of his strength. The desperate pit maneuver had exactly the effect the darker mech had hoped for, as the medic struggled to stabilize himself from the unexpected impact. Both slowed significantly, and Switchshade prepared himself to transform and attack more efficiently, when suddenly a loud sound came from Knockout’s other side, a sound that set both current Decepticon and ex-Con to shivering in unspeakable fear with the overwhelming wave of clear rage emanating from the newly-arrived mech. Lord Prime had come.


	41. Prime's Fury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Just a quick note-at the end, Optimus is not angry with Switchshade. He is disappointed with the ‘Bots and humans for their reckless actions, and angry at Knockout and Breakdown. However, Switchshade interprets this anger as being directed at him (and the other Autobots). This is both due to a request I received quite a while ago, as well as because I quite loved the idea and wanted to explore it a bit. Hope you enjoy this next chapter, and thanks for all the great reviews on the last chapters!

            Switchshade forced himself to focus on the mission, _only the mission, the consequences will come soon enough. Save the human, and then… Save the human, don’t think, don’t imagine what Lord Prime will…_

            The ex-‘Con struggled to concentrate, pure blinding fear coursing through him as he faced Lord Prime’s rage. Switchshade could only hope the majority of said anger was focused on Knockout, and not on the dark mech. Lord Prime suddenly collided with Knockout’s right side, sending the unsteady Decepticon spinning once again, and the backlash struck Switchshade as well, who found himself twisting out of control. To catch his balance and stop the spinning, the dark mech transformed back to root mode, and stumbled to his pedes in time to see Lord Prime _pick up_ Knockout with _one servo_.

            Arcee warned the Prime of Knockout’s hostage, and the cold fury in Optimus’ tone as he replied shortly, “Understood” sent a fresh wave of terror through Switchshade’s lines. He crouched nearby, watching with undisguised horror as the Prime effortlessly began to tear the red medic apart. Flashes of memory from countless times watching Lord Megatron do that very thing to both Starscream and himself assaulted Switchshade, and he sunk lower to the ground, clutching at his helm and struggling to sort between what was happening before his optics, and dark memories of the past. Knockout’s cry of agony did not help matters, and Switchshade became so overwhelmed he did not register that Lord Prime had only removed a single piece of arm plating-enough to reach the captive human within.

            No sooner had Lord Prime gently rescued the insensate human from Knockout’s grip, than did the ‘Con transform back into his root mode, using the motion to break the Prime’s grip and land shakily on his pedes several paces back. The medic growled, snarling in pain and anger, “Do you know how hard that is to replace?” For one, endless moment, Switchshade wondered if Knockout would actually be fool enough to attempt to attack Lord Prime one-on-one, but then Arcee came upon the trio, and the ‘Con thought better of it. The Look the Prime cast the retreating Knockout’s way sent Switchshade to trembling, caught as he was in the darkness of his own mind.

            Bumblebee and Bulkhead appeared to have disengaged with Breakdown, as both scout and Wrecker came up mere moments after Arcee. Lord Prime turned to look at them, still holding the unconscious human, and Bumblebee rolled down his window so Jack could speak with the Prime. “Optimus, this was my fault-” he admitted, before being interrupted by the Autobot Leader. “We must get this boy to safety.” His tone was cool enough to freeze energon. “Explanations can come later… from _all_ of you.” Distantly, Switchshade noticed the uneasy and chastised looks on the faceplates of all of the Autobots involved, but his spark was beating so rapidly within his chassis it became difficult to think straight. _Explanation? What explanation can I possibly give that could even come close to justifying the recklessness and foolishness that took place this evening? I let Knockout get away from me, I failed to protect this innocent human… Pit, even with back up, I was still unable to immobilize Knockout or Breakdown long enough to provide anything close to significant assistance._

_What is Lord Prime going to do to them? To me? Oh Primus, give me strength._ Lord Megatron in a good mood was enough to send ‘Cons fleeing left and right. Lord Megatron mildly annoyed set _Soundwave_ ’s plating to a light flare, and Lord Megatron in a rage was something not even the Spymaster was willing to stand against. _And Lord Prime **killed** Lord Megatron_… _Will I meet Primus tonight?_

***

            Switchshade all but shut down his central processor, his frame going loose and pliant in a way that made it difficult to stay on his pedes. In some distant corner of his processor, he noted Bumblebee taking Jack and the other human back to the captive’s home, and then the order from Lord Prime shook him to his core. “Let us return to the base, and there we will discuss the events of this evening.”

            Feeling more drone than mech, Switchshade instantly obeyed, falling in at the rear of the group, wondering how long it would take for Lord Prime’s rage to abate. _Autobots do not employ physical violence to enforce command_ … _Lord Prime swore it was so. Why, then, do all of the others appear so uneasy? Lies? Primus knows Megatron was not above such tactics, but I never would have believed Lord Prime would employ such without very good cause. This…_ he felt as though he would fry his circuits if he continued in such a line, and firmly retreated into the safety of blankness once again. His faceplates went slack and neutral, the obvious fear draining from his face as he went nearly unresponsive. No sooner had they safely arrived at the Autobot base than did Switchshade focus on Lord Prime’s voice, and only his. The others were not important. Not here. Not now. Not in the face of frame-chilling rage by the single most powerful mech now functioning. One blessed by Primus himself.

            If asked later, Switchshade would be entirely incapable of repeating any of what Lord Prime said to first Bumblebee, then Arcee, then Jack, and finally Bulkhead. Cliffjumper, Ratchet, Miko, and Raf stood in the background, looking on curiously as each tried to account for their actions. Switchshade heard and saw none of it, lost in a white haze of numbing fear. It was only when Lord Prime turned to him, that Switchshade felt himself snap out of his daze, in time to catch ill-concealed fury in those formidable blazing optics. _Frag_. Before he realized he was moving, his pedes had already carried him back several stumbling, trembling paces. _He is angry-no. He is **livid**_. His processor was at war within him, a healthy portion urging him to hit the ground and beg for mercy undeserved, but the more influential voice in his processor had only one word of advice. _Run._


	42. Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Quick warning? I guess? I think it’s pretty clearly established what really goes down in this chapter (rather than the perceptions of some of the characters), but just in case, I’m going to throw in a Character Death warning. I suppose? Like, not really, but… Yeah. I don’t think it’s all that triggering, but I’d much prefer to be overly cautious just in case. So. Consider yourselves warned. That said, enjoy the marvelous misunderstandings and angst that await! This one’s going to be a bit of a bumpy ride! Credit to … oh. Oh crud. Guys, I’m a terrible person. I can’t find the comment (which I loved-as I do all your comments!) which asked whether Switchshade’s camouflage ability/slowing his spark rate, etc, could also extend to playing dead. Whoever you are: 1.) I am sorry I can neither remember your name nor locate your comment right now. 2.) Thanks for the brilliant idea. 3.) Hope this chapter answers your question! ;)

            Optimus watched with no little concern as Switchshade’s trembling increased to a frankly alarming state. The Prime had tried to keep an eye on the much younger mech, but between his concern for his mechs and the issue of the humans’ safety, he had determined it was unwise to dwell too closely on the dark mech’s unrelenting fear until all was put right, and Knockout and Breakdown far from the innocents of earth once again. Now, Optimus cursed himself for his lack of restraint, as his harsh tone from speaking with Bumblebee, Jack, and Arcee now seemed only to have increased the poor mech’s fear. “Switchshade-” Optimus made the mistake of reaching out to offer comfort, and the dark mech recoiled as if struck, his entire frame shuddering as he spun on his pedes and _ran_.

             The Lord of the Autobots didn’t take the time to think, only to act. His battle protocols onlined as his processor registered a _target_ , and although he knew the fleeing mech was not an enemy, he recognized the urge to _catch/protect/retrieve_ , and he gave chase instantly. The battle protocols informed him of the need to _move_ , and quickly, before the lithe-framed mech in front of him could gain the lead he desperately needed. Optimus’ alt-mode was not designed for speed, but strength, and in a long-term chase the Prime would have no chance.

***

_Oh Primus, please no, no, oh please, no…_ Switchshade cowered, trembling as he watched his Lord focus entirely on him, and he tried to fight everything within him that screamed, _Run, Run and don’t look back, you will **die in a pool of your own energon if you stay**_. His efforts were effective, right up until the astroklik Lord Prime began to move towards him, one lethal blue servo reaching out, towards Switchshade’s helm.

_Nope._

***

Scarcely twenty meters from the exit of the Autobot’s base, Optimus managed to catch up to Switchshade, his controlled focus giving him the additional boost he needed. The Prime spared a moment to send a prayer of gratitude to Primus that Switchshade was clearly fleeing in a desperate and ill-coordinated oblivion, or his chances of catching the smaller, sleeker frame were likely slim to none. As it was, he had no opportunity to gain ground, but rather crouched and sprung, his incredibly powerful frame easily propelling him forward in a deadly leap, and he collided with the smaller mech, the forward momentum of both taking them to the ground.

Optimus turned, mid-fall, carefully grasping Switchshade’s shaking frame close to his chassis, and took the brunt of the impact on his backplates. The collision with the unforgiving Terran land didn’t even register as a blip on the Prime’s HUD, so his full focus remained on the black mech now trapped between his servos. Switchshade seemed to attempt to struggle for a moment, desperation and terror giving him a strength beyond anything he might normally have access to, but even the adrenaline-fueled power did not even come close to matching Optimus’ strength. After a brief moment of struggling and kicking out (though Optimus noted to himself curiously that even amidst the younger’s struggles, he made no overt attempts to actively harm Optimus, only to escape his grasp), Switchshade gasped suddenly, and then went completely limp.

Concerned, and satisfied there was no immediate danger of the captive attempting to flee once more, Optimus immediately offlined his battle protocols, and gently moved to set Switchshade down in a sitting position. It was with no little astonishment that Optimus saw the dark mech slump sideways, his frame collapsing lifelessly to the dust at the Prime’s pedes. _This is entirely too similar to a notable previous encounter_ , Optimus mused, though this motion on Switchshade’s part was no fearful obeisance. His frame sprawled gracelessly in the dust, his normally glowing crimson optics fading to a dull burgundy.

“Switchshade? Switchshade!” Optimus’ optics widened in sudden concern. The seemingly unconscious mech’s plating was turning the dull gray of a dead mechanism, and the light in his optics seemed to be growing ever dimmer. ::Ratchet! Medical Emergency! **Now!** ::

***

Switchshade woke in a silent, dark, cool room, wondering when his helm had imploded, and whether it was physically possible for his frame and higher processor abilities to still be functioning when his helm was so badly damaged. It took several moments for him to realize the cause of the pounding pain and fuzzy, dim feel of the environment in his immediate area. He attempted to online his optics, and hurriedly suppressed the urge to groan in agony as pain receptors flared all along his optic ridge-line. _My ability is still active then. I’ve never fallen into recharge with it enabled before… Wait, **still**? How long have I been in Offline Mode?_

No wonder his circuits felt as though he had just been beaten down by Lord Megatron several times over. Enabling his camouflage at full strength for short periods of time was enough to weary him. Enabling Offline Mode, that which mimicked, as the name suggested, every medical indication of a dead mech, was enough to drain any excess energy from his frame, and leave him helpless in every sense of the word for several joors after he disabled it. It was only something he used in the gravest of situations, where his options were to either convincingly fake death, or to truly experience it. Whatever could have happened to drive him to the point where his frame believed it necessary to forsake any other options of fighting or fleeing in order to play dead? What… _Oh Primus. Oh no…_

***

Ratchet was at a loss. He stood at the top of the Autobot’s earth base, for the first time in millennia feeling his ancient age in every strut. His oldest and closest friend stood close beside him, powerful helm bowed in regretful grief. _I do not understand._ The phrase rang through the old medic’s processor, again and again, and with it, came another wave of overwhelming grief battering his psyche yet further. _How could this have happened? After everything that kid survived-the scraplets, the still unknown extent of Megatron’s abuses, Miko’s music… Nothing was enough to offline that stubborn son-of-a-glitch. But now? Optimus tries to **speak to him** , and his spark extinguishes from **fear**?! It should not be possible. Not by any standards. How…?_

Optimus remained silent beside him, all sense of desperate urgency from several joors past long gone now. He had carried Switchshade’s frame back into the base, mere moments after following him out the exit. Ratchet had already been moving to intercept, based on the Comm. call Optimus had placed, only to freeze in spark-stopping shock as he easily recognized the graying frame. Switchshade was dead.


	43. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This chapter doesn't have a whole lot of action, but there's a little comfort, and the next chapter should contain an Optimus & Switchshade Talk, so there's that! Hope you all enjoy this chapter, and my sincerest gratitude to all of you who take the time to read, leave kudos, comment, etc! It always makes my day to open my email and get a notification that someone's enjoying my work! I don't always answer right away (or at all, if I'm really busy), but please know that I am super grateful nonetheless! Enjoy!

::Switchshade::

            The dark mech onlined his optics, blinking in confusion at the surrounding darkness as he struggled to remember the events that must have led to his recharge in these unfamiliar surroundings. The berth beneath him was strangely hard, and a quick scan revealed it was little more than a hunk of rock hewn from the Terran surface. _Wait. Terran surface? …Earth…_

            :: _Switchshade_ ::

            ::Sire? What’s… Why?::

            ::Switchshade: Hurt?::

            It took him a moment to run a self-diagnostic, but aside from dangerously depleted energon levels, and a strange weakness running through his lines, he appeared undamaged.

            ::I am functional. Sire… What has happened?::

            ::Soundwave: would ask the same of you. Why did you feel the need to activate your Death.Mod for such a prolonged period of time?::

            ::I…Oh-::

            Switchshade faltered when he began to remember what had happened prior, and he whimpered.

            ::Lord Optimus Prime is furious… He moved to punish me, and I… Oh Primus, Sire, _please_ …::

            ::Your location. **_Now._** ::

            Switchshade automatically moved to obey, millennia of trusting his Sire’s words and heeding his commands prompting him to comply, before the realization of what he had been asked slammed into him with the weight of a Wrecker.

            ::But… Sire-::

            ::NOW::

            ::I… I will groundbridge away from the base. Then I will comm. you::

            ::… Acceptable. If you encounter trouble, inform me _immediately_. Understood?::

            ::Yes. Sire.::

            As Switchshade moved to sit up, he was frozen in place by a shocked gasp. Tilting his helm to peer at his chassis, the dark mech was astonished to see Miko, tear-tracks streaming down her cheeks, clothing and hair rumpled as if she had not changed or groomed herself for some time. “Switch?! You’re alive?!!! How? Ratchet said you were a goner!”

            Switchshade cycled his optics, sitting up more carefully as the human slid from his chassis plating to his knee-joint. “Ratchet… said I was offlined?”

            “Yes! We’ve all mourned you, and Bulkhead said you were a noble warrior, and Optimus was almost crying! And Ratchet’s been even more growly than usual, Arcee and Cliffjumper have been really quiet, and I don’t think Bumblebee’s been outside the base longer than it takes to bring Raf to school. Arcee and Jack went out on a mission this morning, but Optimus warned them to be careful, but I don’t think that’s because of the danger, but rather because they’re both off-kilter after finding out about you, and-“

            The disoriented mech held up a clawed servo in a wordless plea for the human to pause, which she did, lapsing into silence as she gazed up at him. Switchshade barely had an astroklik to flinch when she flung herself at him, only to blink down in confusion as the human did her level best to hug him. “I’m so glad you’re alive!”

            He allowed a small, bemused smile to cross his faceplates, even as his processor raced in an attempt to figure out all of what the human had said. A gentle servo cradled her as he returned the embrace as best he could, before one fact of her statement stood out. “Wait, Miko, did you just say Lord Prime was nearly _crying_?”

            She pulled back, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah! I mean, there weren’t tears or anything, but his face got all frowny, and he kept glancing at you with this _regret_ and _pain_ in his eyes, and Ratchet even tried to cheer him up between his growling and throwing wrenches.”

            Switchshade’s optics went wide in surprise, which quickly turned to alarm when the human suddenly jumped to her pedes. “Oh, but I gotta tell everyone! They’ve all been so sad, but you’re ok, so everything’s gonna be all right!” Before he could think to stop her, she had already slid down the berth and darted out a tiny human-sized door to the right of the main door of the darkened chamber he’d found himself in.

            The mech tried to struggle to his feet, only to sway back into a seated position as a sudden dizziness pervaded his helm. What seemed mere kliks after the human female had left, the sound of several running pedesteps reached his audials, and Switchshade had not even a moment to flinch back before powerful white and orange arms were wrapped around his frame. “You… Fragging… _Idiot_!” The incredible strength of the medic was restrained only enough to carefully not cause damage, but far too tight for the smaller mech to even consider trying to escape. “You had us all in mourning, and now you’re alive, and I have to actually consider whether Primus is real, after all these millennia?! What did you do? How?”

            Switchshade cycled his optics again, then cautiously glanced up when it appeared the medic had no intentions of releasing him any time soon. Bulkhead, Cliffjumper, and Bumblebee stood behind Ratchet, each with looks of astonished joy on their faceplates. Rafael and Miko stood beside their respective guardians, giddy relief clear on their own features. Ratchet’s field practically _sang_ of relief, joy, and exhilaration, despite his words. Carefully, Switchshade glanced to the mech he feared most, and found himself equally astonished to see Lord Prime held not even a hint of his earlier anger, only the same relief bafflingly present in all of the other Autobots.

            “I… it’s…” he strove to answer even one of Ratchet’s queries, but the medic cut him off before he could continue. “Don’t worry about it, kid. ‘M just glad you’re still with us.”

***

            Starscream was pacing again: irrelevant. No word yet from Lord Megatron: unsettling, but despite all evidence to the contrary, his lord had never yet failed to return unscathed from situations that should and have killed many lesser mecha. Now, if only his youngest would return from his foolish escapade into the spark of the Autobot base, all would nearly be set right again, or as right as things could be in the midst of an ageless war. All other functions on the Nemesis: operational. Morale among drones: lower than before Switchshade’s lapse of reason. The young one had always taken the time to speak with his subordinates, spend time with them, treat them like actual mecha instead of simply more wheels in the cog of the well-oiled machine that was the Decepticon Army. Perhaps it would do the crew well if others in the command staff followed that example. Then again, there was no cause to frighten them to early graves unnecessarily.

            Soundwave resisted the annoying urge to begin a pace similar to the acting Lord of the Decepticons’. Switchshade had not yet responded with his coordinates, and Soundwave grew concerned. Surely, after all these millennia, he had not so badly misjudged Optimus Prime as to have failed to realize if the Prime was a threat? On the battlefield, certainly, and the only other mech Soundwave knew of aside from himself who was capable of holding his own against Lord Megatron in single combat, but to harm or offline a mech in cold energon? Soundwave never would have thought it possible of an uncorrupted Autobot, and certainly not their Lord.

            Soundwave tried to comm. Switchshade once again, and there was no answer. The slender mech turned from his station and began to move down the hall with a single-minded efficiency. Starscream stepped into his path, and the Seeker and the Spymaster commenced a silent stare-down that lasted for only a klik. Despite his mask, Soundwave was fully capable of _glaring_ , and for all of Starscream’s posturing at times, he was no fool. A moment later, and the Seeker stood aside, permitting his Second to pass without question.

            Soundwave had nearly made it to the hangar bay when Switchshade’s comm. reached him.

::Sire!::

::Switchshade::

::It is all right! The Autobots have not harmed me. I do not require assistance.::

A long pause, as Soundwave pondered the likelihood of a lie, coerced or otherwise. In all the vorns since Ravage had brought the tiny, terrified mechling to his pedes, Switchshade had never once offered a lie to his sire, nor indeed to any other mecha Soundwave was aware of. The glyphs accompanying the comm. included disbelief, wary concern, even a hint of hope, but they did not contain the spark-chilling _terror_ that had been attached to his previous correspondence. Another long moment, and Soundwave lifted a slender servo to his mask, performing a very human gesture of massaging the sides of his helm in attempt to stave off an impending helmache from exasperation.

::Switchshade: Certain?::

::Yes, Sire. Though I am grateful beyond words for your continued support in light of… everything. I am well. Whatever penalty awaits me, it is not deactivation, for even Lord Prime appears relieved that I still function.::

::…Very well. Be safe.::

::Sire.::


	44. The Talk II

Switchshade sat in a daze as the Autobots’ most powerful warriors crowded around him, offering sideways hugs, clasps to his shoulderplating, and wide grins. Lord Prime remained near the doorway, but with his battlemask retracted Switchshade could see a smile of relief upon even his faceplates. Ratchet permitted the impromptu celebrations for far longer than Switchshade would have anticipated, and then quickly shooed Cliffjumper, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead back out of the doorway with promises that they’d have time enough to speak with the dark mech later.

            Switchshade tensed slightly when Lord Prime made no move to follow, and glanced down to where his right servo had curled carefully around Ratchet’s forearm plating in a desperate plea not to be left alone. The medic offered a huff, but quietly patted the trembling black servo reassuringly, and took a seat beside the ‘Con. Lord Prime slowly approached then, pausing when Switchshade couldn’t restrain a flinch, and when it appeared the younger mech was slightly calmer, continued to move closer. Several feet away, Lord Prime stopped and seated himself on the floor, and Switchshade’s processor flew to static. Lord Prime, Chosen of Primus, Lord of the Autobots, chose to sit _on the floor_? Like any common mecha?

Flashes of _wrong_ , _wrong_ , _wrong_ running through his mind at being seated above Lord Prime, Switchshade moved on instinct to the ground, dropping smoothly to his knees and bowing his helm low enough to brush the floor. Behind him, he heard Ratchet crumble and a few joint creak, then he felt the medic’s bulk slowly settling beside him and the gruff command to, “Sit up, at least, kid.” Slowly, cautiously, Switchshade obeyed, his optics locked on Lord Prime’s pedes where they were crossed before him. Ratchet calmly reached over and pulled the dark mech off his knees, ending in a slight sprawl as he glanced to the medic in confusion. “Sit, not kneel Switchshade. If you insist on sitting on the floor, at least sit up, please.”

The youngest mech glanced hesitantly between Ratchet and Lord Prime several times, the absurdity of the situation striking him suddenly. Here they sat, ancient Lord, renowned medic, and terrified soldier, on the floor like sparklings. Lord Prime and Ratchet both appeared quite calm, and willing to let _him_ set the pace, which seemed to him the strangest aspect of all. Should he not have been reprimanded yet, if not for his many faults in the unfortunate street racing situation, then certainly for causing such strife and disarray in his cowardly attempt to retreat from a just and deserved punishment?

“Switchshade.” The mech in question flinched when Lord Prime addressed him, hurrying to sit up and trying not to cringe at his disrespectful posture.

“M-my l-lord?”

“Are you willing to speak with me?”

Switchshade’s optics flew wide, and in his astonishment he dared to meet the Prime’s gaze. He froze in further surprise when he recognized the gentleness and quiet compassion in Lord Prime’s optics. “O-Of course, m-my lord. I w-would n-not d-disobey y-your c-command. W-what do you w-wish to know, my l-lord?”

***

Optimus watched the trembling mech struggle to speak, glancing frequently at Ratchet for reassurance as he told them of his abilities. With slight prompting, the young mech went on to quickly and sincerely apologize for his actions the prior evening. Optimus struggled to keep his faceplates gentle and encouraging when in truth the powerful mech would have liked nothing more than to rage at the injustices that had clearly been heaped against the trembling youngling before him. For a mech raised among Decepticons to bear such a kind spark, it must have been nearly impossible for Switchshade to have reached adulthood, and yet the result sat in front of him. Shaking in fear and looking as though he expected to be beaten within an astroklik of his functioning simply for trying to help Jack and Bumblebee, for blindly running for his life when he was terrified.

Optimus would have dearly loved to reach out, to offer comfort in any way he could, but he knew Switchshade would likely see it as an attempt to attack. The Prime wasn’t sure which would be worse to witness- the dark mech panicking and trying to run with that awful terror shining from his optics once again, or his simply giving up and surrendering to what he believed would be agony with quiet fear and despairing resignation. Wishing to witness neither of these, Optimus remained silent and still, simply nodding in encouragement for Switchshade to continue when it seemed the mech would falter.

Ratchet met his gaze a few times, equal rage at what had been done to the youngling he had taken under his wing burning in the medic’s fierce optics, but he too chose to remain quiet unless needed. Optimus watched in compassion and concern as Switchshade finally began to falter, the continued silence from both his captors frightening him that he had said too much.

***

“…a-and then I-I woke i-in this r-room with M-M-Miko. She r-ran t-t-to tell y-you, a-a-and the r-rest you know, my l-lord.” Switchshade managed to stammer in a whisper, his helm bowed to his chassis. The silence was unnerving, and he wondered if finally, finally Lord Prime would punish him for his failings and inadequacies.

“Switchshade, I am proud of you. I am honored you have chosen to be loyal to the mechs under my command and humans under my protection. You will not be harmed. We will never cause you damage, physical pain in punishment, or any other form of torture. I do not condone it, and will never permit it to be done to anyone when I have the power to prevent it. No mech here will ever harm you, and we all wish to see you recover from this. Your functioning has value, not for what you can do for us, not because you need to be ‘useful’, but because your spark holds intrinsic value as the life force of a fellow Cybertronian. I know not what horrors you experienced during your time with the Decepticons, but I swear to you, you will know no torment here.”

Switchshade blinked in astonishment when Lord Prime paused, his wise blue optics searching the ex-‘Con’s own for indications of understanding or belief. Covertly, the dark mech drew a claw across the back of his knee plating, the sharp pain informing him he was not, in fact, in a ridiculous recharge dream. Lord Prime truly was before him telling him these wonderful things. But how could he mean it? Switchshade, valuable? He was only refuse, worth nearly nothing to anymech who did not have a use for him. Soundwave and his cassettes the exceptions, for familial bonds were quite a different story.  But for Lord Prime, enemy of the Decepticons, to find a Decepticon underling’s functioning to have value on it’s own merit? Then…

“I can see this is a lot to take in. Autobots are taught from sparklinghood that freedom is the right of all sentient beings-that every life is sacred and of value. It is what we choose to do with our lives that define us. Regardless of circumstance, your choices define who you are, and you, Switchshade, have proven yourself to be a mech of great integrity and honor. I-”

“Ratchet, requesting Groundbridge.”

Lord Prime blinked in surprise, and Switchshade turned to look at the medic as he rose quickly to his pedes. “Arcee and Jack-I’m sure they’ll want to see you as well. I haven’t had the chance to inform them yet of your continued survival.” Ratchet explained, offering a broad gray servo to help Switchshade stand. Lord Prime accepted a servo up as well, and then offered an encouraging nod to Switchshade. “Take some time to try to accept you are safe here, Switchshade. If you have any questions, or are struggling to understand, please know that you are more than welcome to ask me. If you are uncomfortable with that, I am certain Ratchet will have no trouble explaining further as well. For now, I will let you go and reassure the others you are well.”

As Lord Prime opened the door and prepared to lead the way back into the common area, he glanced back at Switchshade and offered a tiny smile. “And for what it is worth, I am very glad you are still alive and with us.”


End file.
